


The Ogler's Digest

by Claranon



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Author apologizes for nothing, But like a Hendrik kind of obsession so it's more dork than dark, F/M, Frankly a lot of masturbation, Hendrik Masturbates 2019, Hendrik wants to be stepped on, Jade is very much into the Hot Professor look, Masturbation, Now featuring Erdrea's finest human pack mule, Obsessive Behavior, literary voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-18 08:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18246032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claranon/pseuds/Claranon
Summary: Sir Hendrik discovers a scandalous new feature inThe Ogler's Digestand quickly falls down a rabbithole of obsession. But surely there can be no real harm in it, so long as Princess Jade does not find out.Surely.





	1. Issue #1: The Magazine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a one-off that has nothing to do with my [The Princess and the Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1224137) universe. I wanted to take a breather before tackling the end of that series and thought "hey what if I tried some PWP except with 20,000 words of plot instead of no plot?" (Look, I never said I was particularly _bright,_ okay?)
> 
> Since this one lent itself so well to being split up into chapters, I thought I'd try something different and post one part a day until it's complete (don't worry, it's already all written! I'm not _that_ crazy). I should have new chapters up around 1PM Eastern time.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think as we go and I hope everyone enjoys!

 

* * *

 

If one were to ask any denizen of Heliodor—or, indeed, of all Erdrea—to name that man most paramount among men, most heroic among heroes, and possessor of every virtue that might be possessed, they would, without a doubt, speak instantly of Sir Hendrik.

Though often a burden to lesser men, those sterling qualities of chivalry, duty, and honour had ever come easily to Hendrik. He had long found his life of service to the crown to be a simple one, where righteous action and unswerving obedience seldom steered him awry. Even those few months in shameful pursuit of the one he had called Darkspawn had eventually been made right, and he had joined the Luminary’s cause with vigour and steadfast fealty.

In short, if there were ever a man whose unwavering devotion to the ideals of his training could be counted on, it was Sir Hendrik; and none would be more surprised than he at any faltering or lapse in his noble ambitions.

That is, until Princess Jade of Heliodor returned home to resume her rightful position as heir to the throne, and events began to get somewhat more... _complicated_.

 

* * *

 

It was an unusual sight that greeted Hendrik when he arrived at the barracks one sunny afternoon, not long after the Luminary’s triumph over the foul Calasmos. Instead of training, jesting, or playing cards, he found his men clustered together with heads bent, talking excitedly in low voices.

“What d’you think will be in the next one?” he heard one soldier demand of the group.

“I dunno,” another man shrugged, “but they _are_ promising exclusive details, so...”

“Are they _really_ that big?” a third soldier asked wonderingly, tilting his head as he looked more closely at what he held in his hands.

So preoccupied they were with their unknown amusement that Hendrik was able to come right up behind them without being noticed. A shameful occurrence; he made a mental note to add field awareness training to the docket in the coming week.

“What is all this commotion?” the knight asked curiously, with a hint of sternness borne from many years’ observation that any group of quiet young men could not be up to _wholly_ innocent pursuits.

This suspicion proved well-founded when the soldiers leapt into the air and wheeled as one to face him, terror in their eyes.

“S-Sir Hendrik!” stuttered the soldier who had been remarking on the ample size of some unknown quality. His arm was thrust behind him as he desperately tried to hide whatever it was he had been perusing. “Th-that is—we were just—”

Hendrik’s eyes narrowed. “Show me,” he ordered, holding out one gloved hand.

His men exchanged agonized looks as the soldier cringingly brought the object out from behind his back. He hesitantly placed it on his commander’s open palm and then sprang away, as if in fear of being struck. Hendrik looked down.

It was an issue of _The Ogler’s Digest_.

“Is that all?” Hendrik snorted. He carefully checked himself from betraying an indulgent smile; decorum above all things, especially in front of the troops.

“I do not forbid such materials,” he continued, shooting a firm glance at the soldiers, “but I would ask that you keep a discreet...”

He trailed off as he looked more closely at the cover, this time ignoring the distractingly buxom woman emblazoned at the centre. There, in bold lettering underneath the title, it read:

 

**EXCLUSIVE! Lost Princess of Heliodor Returns!**

_And she’s a vision from Yggdrasil itself, gentlemen! (pg.12)_

 

Hendrik’s hands tightened until the glossy paper started crumpling beneath his fingers. Without sparing another glance at his men, he practically tore open the magazine as he flipped to page twelve. He was greeted by a full-page spread with the header ‘Ravishing Royal Roundup: Meet the Jaw-dropping Princess Jade’. A short article lay below, accompanied by an artist’s rendition of the princess herself.

There was a moment of deathly silence as Hendrik’s eyes raced over the page, picking out phrases such as ‘sultry smile’, ‘enticingly endowed’, and ‘scandalous scoops’. The artwork had clothed Princess Jade in something akin to her customary attire, thank the heavens, but the pose was quite a bit more... _provocative_ than her usual no-nonsense stance.

Hendrik slowly looked back up at the group of soldiers in front of him. They were all as white as sheets and staring at their commander with a fear no monster had ever been able to inspire.

“I shall see each and every last one of you on the parade ground at dawn,” Hendrik said in a voice more frigid than the stormy Hekswood. “You will run laps, in full armour, until such time as I relieve you. Do I make myself _clear?_ ”

His men snapped to attention and saluted him with a chorus of shaky affirmations. Hendrik firmly shut the magazine and held it up between thumb and forefinger, as if in concern of its tainting his very person.

“And if I _ever_ catch you in possession of such...such _treasonous filth_ again...” he warned ominously. The dark menace in his voice turned his soldiers’ faces yet paler.

“Sir! No, sir!” they shouted in earnest.

The knight scowled as he gave them all one last glare. “Dismissed!” he barked.

Hendrik watched grimly as the soldiers almost climbed on top of each other scrambling to get out of his sight. He glanced back down at the magazine for a long moment before deliberately rolling it up and clutching it in a tight fist.

 

* * *

 

Once back in his quarters, Hendrik tossed the magazine onto his desk in disgust before heading over to the table to pour out a glass of water. He drank deeply from it and then held onto the cup as he paced restlessly in front of the fire, thinking hard.

He had little doubt his men would obey his steely command to refrain from such detestable practices in the future. But there was still the guard to consider, as well as the servants; it was possible the publication was, even that very minute, in wide circulation throughout the castle. The very idea caused Hendrik’s fingers to clench involuntarily around the stem of his cup.

Clearly, it was his foremost duty as a servant to the crown to resolve the situation with as much delicacy as could be afforded. King Carnelian was yet weak from the aftereffects of his years of heinous possession by the villainous Mordegon, and Hendrik wished above all else to spare him the concern this matter would cause. If His Majesty were never to hear a whisper of it, so much the better.

The knight paused in his pacing as the lady at the centre of it all then came to mind. Despite the time they had spent travelling together with the Luminary, Princess Jade was still in many respects a mystery to Hendrik. Seldom ruffled or perturbed, he could not fathom how she might react to the news that a periodical of such... _disrepute_ was committing certain libel against her character.

Hendrik glanced down at the magazine and frowned. What, exactly, they _had_ said about the princess was admittedly not clear to him; there had not been time in the barracks to catch more than those few scattered words, and he had been too disturbed of mind to linger besides.

Almost before he even knew what he was doing, Hendrik sat down at his desk and picked up _The Ogler’s Digest_ in one hand and his reading glasses in the other.

He idly leafed through the first few pages, pausing briefly whenever he spotted a particularly comely model. In truth, it had been some years since he had last read the publication. Jasper had gifted him a subscription for his birthday once as a jest, and Hendrik had been ashamed at how thoroughly he had devoured each issue, staying up late into the night poring over every tantalizing page. Once the year was complete, he had deliberately declined his friend’s offer to renew; such obsessions were not befitting of a true knight of Heliodor, and he had held his head high even in the face of the knowing laughter received in response.

Hendrik pushed aside thoughts of his erstwhile companion as he reached page twelve. With another brief glance at the picture, he leaned back in his chair and started to read.

 

**Ravishing Royal Roundup: Meet the Jaw-dropping Princess Jade**

_Exciting news, Distinguished Readers! Princess Jade of Heliodor, long considered lost after the tragedy at Dundrasil, has been discovered alive and well! It looks like the years away have been VERY kind to her, because this princess has grown into one lovely lady! Enticingly endowed and compellingly curvaceous, just one glimpse of her sultry smile is enough to stop your heart—or get the blood rushing in a whole NEW direction. And even better: she’s SINGLE, gentlemen! Keep your eyes peeled and your subscription current for our BRAND NEW column RAVISHING ROYAL ROUNDUP, featuring Erdrea’s most eligible royal bachelorette (sorry, Queen Frysabel!). We have plenty of scandalous scoops coming your way, all EXCLUSIVE to_ The Ogler’s Digest _. See you next time!_

 

It took some moments for Hendrik to realize that the grinding noise he was hearing was coming from his own tightly-clenched teeth. He worked his jaw several times and breathed deeply through his nostrils in an attempt to tamp down the sheer, prodigious _outrage_ surging within him.

He stood up from his chair so forcefully that it nearly toppled over behind him. With a quick turn, he was facing the fireplace, magazine clutched in one white-knuckled fist. Hendrik took in a deep breath and raised his hand, preparing to toss the abhorrent periodical into the flames and be done with it forever.

There was a knock at the door.

Violently startled, Hendrik first stared at the door and then down at the magazine still in his hand. After a split-second of hesitation, he jerked open his desk drawer, shoved _The Ogler’s Digest_ inside, and slammed it closed again. He cleared his throat several times and pulled distractedly at the collar of his shirt, somehow feeling a trifle tight all of a sudden.

“Enter,” he called, in a voice of admirable composure.

The door opened and his maid scurried inside, popping a short curtsy. “Sir Hendrik, I’m to inform you that supper is about to be served in the dining room.”

Hendrik, with a jolt of guilt, belatedly remembered that the delegation from Hotto was to dine with King Carnelian that evening; as the king’s right-hand man, he customarily joined the royal family at such diplomatic functions.

“Inform His Majesty that I will be along directly,” he told the girl, and she curtsied again before darting out of the room.

The knight squared his shoulders and glanced down at his desk, its disgraceful occupant well-concealed for the moment. There would be time enough to destroy the magazine later, he decided; that, along with a discreet word to the captain of the guard and the steward, would hopefully be enough to put this nonsense behind him, with the king and his daughter none the wiser.

 

* * *

 

Hendrik found himself watching Princess Jade at supper that evening.

It was some time before he even became _aware_ of this occupation, as engaged as he was with the discussions on his side of the table. Hendrik had never been a very ready or able conversationalist, least of all in such formal situations; but it pleased the king for him to make an effort, and so he gritted his teeth and made polite responses to the Hotto delegate’s questions on trade in the city.

The princess sat across from him beside her father and one of the women from the delegation. She had changed into a stunning violet gown that exactly brought out the colour of her eyes, and Hendrik had thought at first that its pleasingly complementary colour was what had struck him so singularly.

But his gaze yet returned to her as the meal went on, and he at various times caught himself lingering on the glossy sheen of her hair, or the smooth curve of her neck, or the frankly _unsettling_ depth of her neckline. This last he scrutinized most closely, through furtive half-glances here and there; he idly considered the shape and fullness of her breasts, mentally comparing them to—

The princess caught his eye and gave him a small smile. Hendrik jerked back slightly as he suddenly realized the staggeringly inappropriate direction his thoughts had wandered to. He dropped his gaze immediately and felt a flush spreading up from his chest.

When he dared look back at the princess, she was frowning slightly at him. He gave her a short, tight nod, and her face cleared. She briefly nodded back and then turned her attention once more to the conversation between her father and the delegate next to her. Hendrik breathed a small, silent sigh of relief.

After supper had reached its conclusion, he excused himself, intent on returning to his quarters and disposing of the accursed magazine forthwith before it could cloud his thoughts any further. He had just passed into the hallway when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Hendrik,” said Princess Jade. He turned to see her gracefully slipping out of the dining room behind him. She shut the door quietly and looked up to meet his gaze. They were by all appearances alone in the hall, the servants at their evening duties.

Though their return to Heliodor had now comprised a month or more, Hendrik still found himself in some disquiet when caught alone with the princess. Their relationship had, of course, changed dramatically from the time of their youth, and he had not yet determined the exact nature of the ideal dynamic between knight and future queen.

That she was the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life, was _also_ of no assistance whatsoever.

“Your Highness,” he said to her with a short bow, covering up the momentary agitation that often overcame him when in close proximity to her. He took care to keep his gaze _well_ away from any distracting aspects of her person as he straightened again.

“These dinners are a bit stuffy, aren’t they?” the princess remarked, wrinkling her nose.

Hendrik smiled slightly. “A necessary evil of state affairs, Princess.”

“Evil? Don’t let my father hear you say that,” she snorted. “He _lives_ for this sort of thing.”

“I am well aware, Your Highness,” the knight replied. He paused. “Was there something you required of me?”

“Yes.” This time she was the one who paused, her gaze darting away briefly before returning to his. “I’ve been using the officers’ training room for practice,” she explained in an offhand manner, “but I’m not finding it as effective as sparring with a partner. I always had Rab on the road, you see, but now...”

“Ah,” Hendrik nodded. “I can well understand the difficulty, Princess.” He pursed his lips, giving the matter some thought.

“Perhaps I could offer my services, when my schedule permits?” he suggested after a moment. Though quite skilled, he could already think of several areas in which the princess might improve her technique through diligent training under an attentive instructor such as himself.

Her eyes had lit up. “Oh, yes, that would be—”

“Or, better still, you could join me during morning exercises with the troops,” he said with enthusiasm, so struck by the brilliance of the idea as to uncharacteristically interrupt a member of the royal house of Heliodor. “Instead of a mere _singular_ partner, there would be many to choose from, at any level of skill you might desire.”

Hendrik was somewhat perturbed to see that Princess Jade’s face had fallen slightly in...disappointment? She recovered quickly, however, and gave him a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Of course,” she replied evenly. “It’s an excellent idea, Hendrik—thank you.”

“I live only to serve, Your Highness,” he said with another bow.

“When should I show up tomorrow?” she asked then, absently fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist.

“The second hour past dawn is when I customarily—” Belatedly, Hendrik remembered the soldiers from earlier that day. He coughed into his hand. “My apologies, Princess, but there is a small disciplinary matter I must attend to on the morrow. We shall have to postpone until the day next.”

“Disciplinary matter?” Princess Jade gave him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised.

“It is nothing I would wish to trouble you with,” he insisted, willing his renewed flush not to creep up past his collarbone. “The Heliodorian army is the finest in the world, but at times the troops need a reminder on the importance of...proper decorum.”

“Still the same old merciless drill instructor, aren’t you, Hendrik?” she teased with a touch of fondness, her smile fully realized this time.

“I ask no more of others than I do of myself, Your Highness,” he said stiffly, uncertain if he were being mocked.

The tilt of her lips turned sly. She reached out with one hand, her fingers brushing lightly along his sleeve; he caught a whiff of some faintly floral scent from her. “Well, Sir Hendrik, I’ll have to try my best not to _misbehave_ ,” she replied archly.

To his horror, Hendrik felt himself growing hard in response to the princess’s lingering touch and mischievous words. He knew that she was only making an attempt at playful camaraderie, but the combination of the magazine earlier and her closeness now was obviously affecting him in unnerving ways.

He turned from her slightly, praying that his jacket properly covered up his impending predicament. Her hand dropped from his arm and he immediately felt a wildly improper longing for its return.

“Yes. Very well,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat with some determination. “I bid you good night, Your Highness.”

Princess Jade was silent for a moment. “Good night, Hendrik,” she replied, her voice returned to its customary tone.

When he stole one last glance at her before entering his quarters, she was standing in the hallway with her arms crossed, staring pensively into the air.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Hendrik did not cast the magazine into the fireplace.

For one thing, the fire had been banked upon his arrival, and it seemed rather too much trouble to restart it; for another, he had realized the wisdom in safekeeping such evidence on the off-chance a suit of litigation might someday be pressed against the perpetrators of this libelous crime. It was, in that event, his sworn duty _not_ to destroy all copies of the obscene publication, in furtherance of his service to the crown.

Which was not to say that he used it for any _other_ purposes besides; Hendrik had, in recent years, risen well above such boorish tendencies when it came to inspiration for his nightly relief. Instead, when he lay in bed in the dark and took himself in hand, he pictured curved lips, devastating eyes, and plunging necklines.

They _had_ gotten it wrong, was his stuttered thought as he desperately stroked his stiff cock. The real ones were smaller, admittedly, but so much more pleasingly formed, and would fit perfectly in his large hands. He could almost imagine what they would feel like, the throaty sounds he might hear when he brushed rough thumbs over rosy nipples, pinching and teasing them with his fingers.

It was only a few short minutes before Hendrik let out a strangled gasp and came, spilling all over his firm stomach.


	2. Issue #2: The Dress

When the next issue of _The Ogler’s Digest_ came out, Hendrik had almost forgotten about the matter entirely. His duties had been keeping him occupied morning till night, with scarce time for his own leisurely pursuits of weapons training, military research, and horsemanship. He could feel the weight of Obsidian’s reproachful look every time he walked past the stables, but simply could not spare even a stray hour for his restless mount.

He was rushing off to a noontime meeting with the king, an unacceptable _five_ minutes ahead of schedule instead of his usual ten, when his attention was caught by a harried whisper in the upstairs hallway.

“Sir Hendrik!” came the low hiss from a nearby alcove.

Hendrik came to a halt. “Yes?” he asked warily, squinting at the speaker in the dim light.

The figure moved closer and he soon made out the face of the castle steward. The man’s eyes were a bit wild and nervously darted from side to side.

“I—I have something for you to see, Sir Hendrik,” he said, still in that same hushed voice.

“What is it?” the knight demanded, baffled by all the secrecy.

The steward made some show of verifying that they were alone in the hallway before carefully opening his coat to reveal a glimpse of what he had stashed inside.

Hendrik turned pale and took an involuntary step backward, his appointment abruptly forgotten.

“I confiscated it from one of the valets,” the man explained. “He was reprimanded severely, as per your orders.”

“Good,” Hendrik said vaguely, his thoughts racing in a thousand different directions. “That is...good.”

“What do you want me to do with it?” the steward asked anxiously.

Hendrik mentally shook himself, dragging his presence of mind back by sheer force of will. “Deliver it to my quarters at once,” he commanded the fearful man. “Let _no one_ observe your doing so, do you understand?”

“Of course, Sir Hendrik,” the steward replied, nodding vigorously. He closed his coat and clutched it firmly against himself as he scurried off down the hallway.

Hendrik stared after him, his breathing laboured. When he finally remembered the meeting with the king, he was all of three minutes late, and felt the full burden of shame upon himself at his liege’s chiding.

 

* * *

 

It was not until evening that Hendrik finally had time to return to his room. The day had passed as if through a vast sea of slime, so agonizingly slowly that his restless checking of the guardroom clock had eventually prompted the captain to inquire as to his digestive health. From there, dinner in the mess had been followed by King Carnelian’s urgent summons to discuss the training of the new recruits from Puerto Valor. By that point, Hendrik’s patience had been tested enough to _almost_ come within the vicinity of curtness toward his king—though he would, of course, never give in to such unspeakable insolence.

Safe in his quarters at last, Hendrik unbuckled his sword and tossed it on the bed before turning eagerly to his desk. There, in the precise centre, was a thin package wrapped extensively in burlap cloth. With a mental nod to the steward’s keen discretionary instincts, the knight fell into his chair and practically tore apart the covering to reveal the glossy magazine within.

His hands gripped the paper tightly as he scanned the front cover, paying no heed to the gravity-defying assets of the model prominently featured there. In moments, his eyes landed on what he sought:

 

**Princess Jade: All the Dirty Details**

_Everything YOU want to know about Heliodor’s fetching future queen! (pg.10)_

 

Without pausing to even consider the meaning of those words, Hendrik grabbed his glasses off the desk and flung open the magazine to page ten.

 

**Ravishing Royal Roundup: Who is Pretty Princess Jade?**

_Welcome, Distinguished Readers, to another edition of our newest column RAVISHING ROYAL ROUNDUP! We’re your EXCLUSIVE destination for information about the dazzling damsel from Heliodor. Judging by the response to our last issue, there’s NO shortage of curiosity about Erdrea’s provocative Princess Jade! This time, feast your eyes on her fine form and learn the answers to your burning questions. And yes, we’ve got her MEASUREMENTS, gentlemen!_

 

The column delved then into a brief biography, lingering with no small amount of irreverence on the late Queen Belle’s famed beauty, as well as what Hendrik considered to be a wholly disgraceful lamentation on the princess’s lack of sisters. There was some mention of her travels with Lord Robert, but no further details given at present.

When Hendrik turned his attention to the accompanying artwork, he saw that it was this time extensively annotated with facts and figures, doubtless entirely fabricated.

 

_Luxurious locks once used to choke out the famed bandit Robbin' 'Ood_

_Enchanting amethyst eyes that captured the heart of the Viking Chief_

_Luscious lips that bestowed a kiss on the Prince of Gallopolis after his victory at the Sand National_

_Bountiful bosom won her first prize in the annual Puerto Valor Wet Tunic Contest_

_Svelte stomach toned by 1000 crunches every morning_

_Hypnotic Hip Drop bumped off her opponents in the Masked Martial Arts Tournament XVIII_

_Delectable derrière raised the temperature at the Hotto Hot Springs after a cheeky towel slip_

_Thrilling thighs capable of crushing an Eggsoskeleton to death in ten seconds flat_

 

Princess Jade was blowing a kiss to the reader, garbed in her preferred black tank top and shorts; the former betrayed far more cleavage than it customarily did in life, and the latter were so minuscule as to come perilously close to revealing what lay at the apex of her slender thighs.

All the same, as Hendrik’s outraged eyes lingered over the curve of her hips, he was forced to concede that the _proportions_ at least appeared more accurate than her likeness in the first issue, whatever the spurious measurements attached.

He was just about to reread from the beginning of the column when he spotted a small note at the bottom of the page:

 

_While we have plenty of tantalizing tales to come, we’d also like to invite you, our Distinguished Readers, to send in your OWN sizzling stories about your encounters with Princess Jade. If your letter is published, you’ll win a FREE year’s subscription to_ The Ogler’s Digest!

 

Hendrik sat back in his chair and tossed both magazine and glasses onto his desk in disgust. Clearly, the publication showed no signs of ceasing their scandalous debasement of the princess’s character. He had done passably well thus far at preventing its circulation within the castle walls, but it was only a matter of time before the king caught wind of the matter and risked relapsing into infirmity.

The knight leaned forward and distractedly drummed his fingers on the lacquered wood of his desktop. The time had come for action; but as to what that entailed, he could not determine. He glowered pensively at the magazine lying in front of him. If containment were ineffective, then surely he must go straight to the source.

Issue once more in hand, Hendrik pored over the covers inside and out, seeking an address for the _Ogler’s Digest_ offices. He could find only a postal box secured somewhere within the city, which provided no useful information.

Hendrik knew that he could have a company of troops gathered by first light, ready to scour all of Heliodor until they ferreted out the location of the publication’s headquarters. But such activities would surely attract the attention of his liege; or worse, Princess Jade herself, who was ever inquisitive about all matters military. Likewise he could inquire of Lord Robert as to _his_ potential knowledge, but the possibility of its getting back to King Carnelian was still too great a risk.

Discretion above all things. Hendrik required further intelligence before enacting a strategy, and he realized—however reluctantly—the best way to obtain it.

 

* * *

 

_Dear Sirs and Mesdames,_

_I wish to take out a year’s subscription to your publication The Ogler’s Digest; enclosed is my payment in full. I would ask that it be sent in the most secure, impenetrable packaging available, with the word ‘CLASSIFIED’ written in large lettering on front. If need be, I will pay extra for this service._

_Regards,_

~~_Sir Hen_~~ _Greg of Heliodor_

 

* * *

 

The Heliodor marketplace was bustling in the afternoon sunshine. Merchants advertised their wares with strident voices and shoppers milled about the brightly-coloured stalls. It was not yet into high summer and the air was pleasantly warm, the scent of flowers on the breeze.

Princess Jade, after a spirited argument with her father, had finally agreed to the accompaniment of _one_ guard on her outing to the city. It had been unclear to Sir Hendrik why _he_ should have been selected for the task, having innumerable other duties to perform at all hours; but he had, as always, obeyed the command of his king without question.

“Where would you like to go next?” she asked as they left a well-stocked weapons stall with a lively spring in her step.

Hendrik shifted the bulky parcel of armaments that had been blithely dumped upon him by the princess, trying to balance them with the equally cumbersome carton of armour obtained at a previous shop. He was starting to strongly suspect the reason for himself as her choice of guard, but felt it quite outside the bounds of propriety to broach the subject.

“Wherever you wish, Your Highness,” he said instead, hefting her new spear into a more comfortable position against his arm. “I am at your disposal.”

“I’d _never_ want to dispose of you, Hendrik,” she replied with mock seriousness. “How else will I get all of this home?”

“Most merchants _do_ deliver to the castle, Princess,” Hendrik pointed out somewhat hopelessly.

“But then I wouldn’t have my new claws for practice this evening,” the princess said, waving a dismissive hand at him. “Come on—let’s head over to the Western district.”

Princess Jade had certainly become quite popular among the citizens of Heliodor, Hendrik noted as they walked through the busy streets together. People stopped to greet her with respectful genuflections and children called her name from the balconies above. The princess seemed at times to be somewhat uncomfortable with the attention, but met each encounter with the amiable composure that he had come to admire in her.

He was far less pleased with the appreciation he observed from _other_ segments of the population, specifically of the male persuasion. Hendrik kept a watchful eye on such men as gawked a trifle too keenly at their beautiful princess; she was well capable of handling herself, but it was a knight’s duty to prevent the royal family from sullying themselves on riff-raff if at all possible.

Hendrik frowned as they passed by one especially admiring young man loitering in an alleyway. Was it his imagination, or did many of them seem almost to be...sizing the princess up? As if mentally comparing her figure to—

“ _Oh._ ” Princess Jade abruptly stopped in front of a store window and Hendrik nearly tripped over himself trying not to crash into her. She remained oblivious to his struggles to keep her packages in hand as she stepped closer to the storefront.

It appeared to be a dressmaker’s shop. Luxurious gowns in rich colours bedecked the window display, shimmering in the light of the afternoon sun. Hendrik watched as the princess drank in the sight of them, her eyes wide.

“Do you wish to go inside, Your Highness?” he inquired.

She started slightly at his voice and then appeared to come back to herself. “No,” she told him with a shake of her head. “I have enough dresses for an entire month’s worth of balls.”

Her answer perplexed him; the princess clearly favoured the outfits, so why should she show such reluctance to examine them more closely? The knight squared his shoulders and approached the shop, ignoring her sudden noise of protest. He pushed open the door with one sturdy boot and then stepped inside.

A bell jingled above him as he entered the store. It was a small, dimly-lit space, with every square inch seemingly taken over by bolts of fabric and lace. A half-finished dress rested on a mannequin by the back window next to a large sewing machine.

“May I...help you?” came a voice from his left.

Hendrik turned. A woman of middle years was staring at him from an archway—presumably the seamstress. He unconsciously shifted the spear from where it was digging into his side and saw her brow furrow as her eyes roved over the considerable equipment he carried.

“Princess Jade has a great admiration for your gowns,” he declared, seeing no reason not to come directly to the point. “I would have you speak with her.”

The bell jingled again and then the princess was at his side. She shot him an exasperated look that he could not quite see the justification for.

“Forgive him,” she said to the seamstress with an apologetic smile. “He’s very...well, a _knight_.”

“Yes, he certainly is,” the woman agreed, still eyeing Hendrik skeptically. Then she turned to Princess Jade and bobbed a quick curtsy. “Welcome, your ladyship! In the market for a gown, are you?”

“Oh, no—I mean, not really,” the princess demurred. “I just saw them in the window and they all looked so lovely—”

“Of course they are!” was the seamstress’s modest reply. “Been in the business thirty-five years, I have. Even made a frock or two for your mother, though she mostly got hers done overseas.”

“Really?” Hendrik could see Princess Jade’s face light up at this piece of information, and she turned back to the gowns with renewed interest.

“Certainly,” the woman confirmed. “And quite a beauty she was—just like her daughter, it seems. Did any of these catch your eye in particular?”

“Well...” The princess pointed almost shyly to the dress in the middle of the display. “I quite like that one, actually.”

“Excellent taste, your ladyship,” the seamstress smiled. “Tell you what—how about you come to the back so I can get your measurements and then we have a look at some materials? You can always change your mind later.”

After another moment of hesitation, the princess nodded. “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

Hendrik, who had been watching the proceedings with something akin to fond indulgence, suddenly realized how out of place he was in a dress shop. He unconsciously tightened his grip on his parcels and cleared his throat.

“I will await your return outside, Your Highness,” he said, attempting some semblance of a bow.

The seamstress looked at him with a frown, even as she was ushering the princess to the rear of the store. “Don’t even think it!” she scolded. “You’ll scare away all my customers lurking out there with a whole armory in your hands.”

“But—” Hendrik protested.

“Just wait in here, Hendrik,” Princess Jade commanded, amusement in her voice. “And put those down before you accidentally tear a hole in one of the dresses.”

The knight pressed his lips together and obeyed his princess. He found the one corner of the store not filled to the brim with dressmaking supplies and carefully laid the packages down with a quiet clatter.

When he rose again and glanced at the princess, she had removed the skirt from her waist and was gesturing at her green halter top. “This too?” she asked.

The seamstress nodded. “Best to get the most accurate measurement possible.”

Hendrik watched, transfixed, as Princess Jade unbuckled the halter from her neck and loosened the ties at the back. She pulled it over her head and her dark tank top rode up high on her torso, exposing her flat stomach; Hendrik felt an interested twitch in his trousers.

Her eyes caught his as she reached down to tug the shirt back into place. She tilted her head at him, a searching look on her face. He belatedly realized the grievous indecency of his actions and whirled around. His skin was all aflame, and he cleared his throat several times.

“Please inform me as to when you are finished, Princess,” he said hoarsely. “I would not intrude on your privacy.”

Hendrik heard the seamstress snort behind him. “A real gentleman, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” the princess agreed. “It feels like I’ve been trying to cure him of that for years now.”

The knight felt his face grow even hotter, but the women mercifully decided to let the matter drop. He walked over to one of the shelves and stared unseeingly at the silks and satins displayed there, shamefully craning his ears to listen to their quiet conversation.

“Twenty-two there...and thirty-eight up _here..._ ” The seamstress clucked her tongue. “Well, well. Not bad at all, your ladyship.”

“Thank you,” the princess replied, with a hint of embarrassment.

Hendrik could not help but wonder what aspects of the princess’s figure the numbers were referring to. The artwork from the magazine came to mind, unbidden; there were several possibilities he could determine, depending on the level of accuracy in the publication’s estimates. It would, of course, be most useful to have it on hand as a direct comparison, but—

“There! All done,” the seamstress said brusquely. “You’re giving me a fine canvas to work with, I must say.”

Princess Jade had no response that Hendrik could hear. There was a rustling of fabric, and it took every bit of his willpower not to turn around for one last glimpse of her before she put the halter and skirt back on. To distract himself, he picked up a pile of lace from a table nearby and pretended to be greatly invested in examining its composition.

The seamstress’s heels clicked over to his side of the room again. “Ah, I should’ve guessed,” she said, peering over at his determined occupation. “That’s a very popular one with the menfolk.”

Hendrik glanced at her, confused, before looking down at what he held in his hand. It was a brassiere, adorned with what must have been an entire dress’s worth of lace and ribbons.

He dropped it on the table as if scalded and took several hasty steps backward. The woman’s smile was faintly malicious as she watched him go.

“Everything all right?” Princess Jade asked as she joined them, fully clothed once more.

“Certainly so,” Hendrik said grimly, glaring at the seamstress in warning. Her smile grew wider.

When she turned to the princess, however, she was all business again. “Did you have a colour in mind, your ladyship? I’ve got lots of options.”

“I’m not sure,” the princess murmured, her eyes scanning the room. She looked at Hendrik. “What do you think?”

“Me, Your Highness?” he floundered, all thoughts of women’s delicates forgotten at this sudden query.

“Yes, you,” she confirmed, and her voice brooked no opposition.

Hendrik stared helplessly at the yards upon yards of fabric scattered about the shop. There was a bewildering array of silks, satins, velvets, and textures he could not even name. His gaze finally landed on a shimmery material whose colour appeared inspired by the princess’s namesake. The hue, even to his untrained eye, seemed that it would give a fair complement to her dark hair and violet eyes.

“If...If it would please you, I believe that one is rather fine,” he said with uncharacteristic hesitance, pointing to the fabric.

The seamstress grunted. “Not a bad choice,” she admitted grudgingly, taking the bolt down from the shelf and looking it over. “You might be worth something after all, Sir Knight.”

Princess Jade shot a mysterious smile at him. “Hendrik can be full of surprises,” she replied lightly. Before he could even begin to untangle the meaning of that statement, she had turned to the seamstress again. “Now, is there any way I might be able to stash a pair of claws underneath this?”

 

* * *

 

He tossed and turned a long while that night, stubbornly refusing to indulge in the images he _knew_ would accompany any attempt at self-pleasure. His mind flitted restlessly through them regardless: her tank top ridden up, exposing soft skin he desperately wanted to press his lips against; full breasts encased in lacy lingerie, just waiting for him to tear it off with his teeth; tight black shorts clinging to her curves as his fingers slipped between her thighs.

By the time he gave up and took his aching cock in hand, it was only moments of frantic pumping before he reached his climax and the world went white.


	3. Issue #3: The Glasses

Unlike with the previous issues, Hendrik was fully prepared for the release of the next _Ogler’s Digest._ He was all anxious restlessness in the days before its arrival, performing his duties with a distraction that ill-befitted his role as master and commander of the armies of Heliodor and king’s right-hand man.

It eventually reached the point one afternoon where, to his utter chagrin, he caught himself addressing the ambassador from Sniflheim as ‘Your Honour’ instead of ‘Your Excellency’. King Carnelian, fearing that his knight had fallen ill, immediately ordered him to rest in his quarters for the remainder of the day. Hendrik protested most vehemently before finally relenting to his liege’s command.

He was for once not thinking of the magazine when he arrived at his chambers, wallowing in his own disgrace. He looked dully around his room with its flickering candles and cheerful fire and was about to consider taking an uncharacteristic nap, when his eyes suddenly fell upon his desk. It appeared that the mail had been delivered in his absence and a large envelope now sat upon the wooden surface. The word ‘CLASSIFIED’ was etched on front in an elegant script.

Heart pounding, Hendrik tore off his formal jacket and swordbelt and rushed over to the desk. He grabbed his glasses and thrust them upon his face even as he sat down and started working the packaging open with impatient fingers. He had impressed upon his maid the importance of secrecy for this ‘crucial military intelligence’ and she had well risen to the occasion, the envelope by all accounts entirely undisturbed.

In moments he pulled the magazine free and turned it around in his hands. His gaze raced across the front cover only long enough to note the pertinent page number before he leafed through and finally laid eyes upon that which he had so ardently awaited.

This time, his attention was immediately arrested by the artwork, even before he read a single word. Princess Jade was clad in a traditional Gallopitan dancer’s garb, flowing red silks offset by black accents. She appeared in mid-movement and the pose of her slender arms and legs evoked not so much an air of grace as sheer _sensuality_. Her generous breasts were almost spilling out of the outfit’s scanty brassiere and her flat stomach was entirely exposed. And down further below, past her teasingly cocked hips, underneath the skimpiest covering he had ever seen in his _life_ —

Hendrik tore his eyes away, his breath coming short in his chest. Against his will—against his very sense of _honour_ —he felt his cock growing hard, entirely overcome by the image of the princess in such provocative attire. He made some attempt at adjusting himself in his trousers, but the firm movement only gave further encouragement to his plight.

He cleared his throat for the benefit of the empty room and loosened his shirt collar before deliberately turning his gaze down to the article. The picture, he steadfastly ignored to the best of his ability; the thought of covering it up briefly crossed his mind, but he could not quite bring himself to deny its tantalizing presence in his peripheral vision.

 

**Ravishing Royal Roundup: Divine Dancer Princess Jade**

_Welcome back, Distinguished Readers! In this edition of RAVISHING ROYAL ROUNDUP, we shed light on Princess Jade’s delectable dancing past. Did you know that during her years of exile, Erdrea’s prettiest princess often hid under the guise of a travelling danseuse? Performing in taverns and casinos alike, this shapely showgirl put on QUITE the act for any man lucky enough to see it. Whether part of a captivating chorus line or revealing her racy rhumba, we’re sure this looker of a lady sent MANY a gentleman home with dreams of getting underneath HER sash. And as it turns out, at least one of them DID!_

 

Hendrik’s unconscious frown deepened into an outright scowl; he adjusted himself again and observed with some disquiet that _outrage_ did not appear as adequate a remedy for an unwanted erection as might be surmised. The article appeared to continue at some length afterward, and so he read on.

 

_Last time we asked for you to send in your stories, and boy did you deliver! This issue we bring you a titillating tale from our Distinguished Reader G.B. in Octagonia, who had quite the electrifying encounter with Princess Jade during her dancing days. Congratulations on your FREE year’s subscription of_ The Ogler’s Digest _, G.B!_

 

Underneath was a letter taking up the full rest of the page and half of the next:

 

_Dear_ _Ogler’s Digest,_

_I never thought it would happen to me. A few years back, I had just moved to Octagonia in time for Masked Martial Arts XV. One night I was having a drink and enjoying evening show, when suddenly the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life took the stage. She was dressed in a flimsy red and black silk outfit and her long, dark hair twisted and swayed around her inviting curves. Her movements were seductive and teasing and I soon felt my pants growing tighter as I watched her—especially when she turned to look right at ME! She zeroed in on me as she danced, and it wasn’t long before it felt like it was just the two of us in our own little world. My heart was racing by the end of her performance, and I couldn’t believe it when she stepped off the stage and walked right over to me._

_“Come here often?” she asked in a throaty voice, leaning over my table so that I got a fantastic view of her enormous, heaving..._

 

A nigh-uncontrollable rage filled Hendrik as he continued to read through the _undoubtedly_ fictitious account of the princess performing such lurid acts as he could not even conceive of. When he finally reached the end of the obscene story, he was practically shaking with suppressed fury. He clutched the magazine in white-knuckled hands and twisted in his chair toward the fire, of half a mind to cast it in forthwith and grimly revel in the smoke and ash the repugnant tale would soon become.

His eyes flickered toward the picture and he hesitated. The _other_ half of his mind—which he refused to admit was concentrated mostly in his trousers at present—protested keenly the loss of such important evidence. And given his painstaking efforts toward preventing the publication’s circulation throughout the castle, it might prove difficult to obtain another copy should he wish to do so later on. For his records, he told himself sternly.

Still, Hendrik could not sit idly by while his princess’s reputation was thus besmirched. He tossed the magazine on his desk and pulled open the drawer with some force, procuring a blank piece of parchment from within. He snatched his quill from the inkpot and began to write.

_To Whom It May Concern_ , he composed angrily in a tight, cursive script. _I write in regard to the vulgar falsehood that was published about Her Royal Highness, Princess Jade of Heliodor, in your last issue. My profound rejections of this account are sevenfold; firstly, concerning the matter of Her Highness having been present in Octagonia during such time as was reported by the libellous individual G.B., this is entirely inaccurate due to the nature of her travels during the_

There was a light rapping at the door. Hendrik’s head jerked up and he stared at it for several blinking moments, his mind a muddle of incensed ire.

Reality caught up with him all at once and he found himself facing several simultaneous dilemmas without a clear path forward; but no soldier lived into his fourth decade without the ability to take decisive action, and Hendrik rallied accordingly. The magazine, he quickly shoved underneath a pile of books resting at the edge of his desk; the letter, still wet with ink, he buried under several stacks of correspondence; the persistent erection, he could only hope was saved from discovery by his staying behind his desk at all costs—no matter the visitor.

“Enter!” he called, straightening in his chair and folding his hands before him on top of the desk. His fingers twitched slightly and he clasped them even more firmly together.

The door opened, and in walked the Princess of Heliodor.

Hendrik’s thoughts seized up in pure, panicked consternation. He abruptly found himself adding a _new_ dilemma to the list: what sort of bow would show the proper respect due his future queen, while at the same time not revealing the current tenting of his trousers. While his paralyzed mind wildly worked through the possibilities, the princess had already begun to speak.

“Hendrik,” she said as she walked over to the desk, glancing around his quarters with mild interest. “My father said you’d taken ill and I wanted to—”

The princess suddenly cut herself off; this brought Hendrik’s attention away from the complex etiquette of genuflection, and fully on her for the first time. He was startled to see her staring at him with her mouth slightly open and a faintly pinkish tinge to her cheeks.

“Princess?” he queried with concern, immediately pushing aside his own difficulties. “Is something the matter?”

“No, I...” Princess Jade bit her bottom lip and Hendrik observed the action with distracted interest; his cock twitched its agreement with enthusiasm.

“I just wasn’t aware that you ever wore...glasses,” she finished, the unprecedented flush on her skin deepening.

He blinked in bemusement at this unexpected conclusion and his fingers came up to touch the wire rims adorning his face. “Ah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Only when reading by candlelight, Your Highness.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Hendrik pulled the eyeglasses off and neatly laid them on the wooden surface of his desk. When he looked back at the princess, he was even more startled than before to see that she had raised one hand as if in attempted protest. She jerked back slightly upon his scrutiny and quickly moved her hand over to the globe nearby, spinning it with some show of nonchalance.

Thoroughly perplexed—and not a little dizzy from the faint hint of her perfume that he could now sense—Hendrik valiantly attempted to redirect the conversation to its original purpose. “There was a matter you wished to speak on, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rasping slightly.

After a pause, the princess seemed to overcome whatever mental disquiet had befallen her. “Yes,” she confirmed, turning her gaze upon him again. Her complexion had mostly resumed its normal colouring and she spoke with her usual composure. “I wanted to know if you were feeling well enough to join my father and me for supper shortly. No dignitaries,” she added with a small smile. Her hand had moved from the globe to the stack of books beside it, shifting and prodding them restlessly.

Hendrik grappled with himself for a long moment. The honour of the invitation was by necessity juxtaposed against the obstinacy of his erection, brought to even greater heights in the face of just how utterly _lovely_ the princess looked right then. Her hair shone in the candlelight and her enchanting eyes were fixed on him with hopeful expectation. His gaze could not help but drop down slightly to the swell of her breasts, so easy to imagine clad in skimpy brassiere and sash instead of sturdy tank top and halter.

He mentally cuffed himself and then squared his shoulders. No; to risk exposing his disgraceful condition in front of the king _and_ his daughter was unthinkable, and it was his duty to spare the royal family from all consequences of his shameful lack of self-discipline.

“I am afraid I must decline,” he said with great reluctance. “I am...not yet prepared to venture outside of my quarters.”

Princess Jade was silent for a heartbeat before responding. “Of course,” she said quietly.

Her face betrayed no disappointment that Hendrik could see, but something about her manner gave him pause. He was about to offer further justification when he suddenly noticed—with horrified alarm—that her restless shifting of the books had exposed a corner of _The Ogler’s Digest_ hidden beneath.

Hendrik instantly shot up in an awkward, half-standing position, praying to every force in the world that his prominent bulge was suitably concealed behind the desk.

“I thank you for the invitation nonetheless,” he said hurriedly, hunching over in a stilted bow. “Please send my apologies to the king and inform him that I shall resume my normal duties on the morrow.” He held his breath as he hoped that the princess’s attention had been fully drawn toward himself—and _away_ from the desktop.

There was an even longer pause this time, during which he dared not look up at her. “All right, Hendrik,” she finally said, turning away from the desk as she spoke. “Try to rest up.”

Only years of strict training kept Hendrik from letting out an audible sigh of relief. “I shall, Your Highness,” he assured her gratefully. “I bid you good night.”

“Good night,” she returned from the door. With a wave of her hand, she opened it and was gone.

Hendrik gave in to the sudden weakness of his knees and fell back in his chair. He sat for some time, letting his racing heart return to some semblance of its normal tempo, before he remembered the letter. With some resignation, he gingerly lifted up the stack of papers he had covered it with, revealing its smeared and altogether ruined state.

With a sigh, he balled it up in his hands and tossed it into the fire behind him. There would be time later to pen it anew. For now, an evening of concentrated reading seemed in order—at least until he had a _chance_ of dealing with his insistent cock without thinking of flowing silks and swaying hips and a rosy bottom lip caught between white teeth.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Hendrik not only failed in his _stated_ mission, but also several unintended ones besides. When he retired that evening, he brought the magazine to bed with him for the first time; and as he helplessly stroked himself to enthralled examination of the princess in that scanty garb, he thought of how she might look at _him_ as she danced, as if they were the only two people in the world.

 

* * *

 

When King Carnelian requested Princess Jade’s presence for a trade meeting late one morning, Hendrik did not quite know why _he_ volunteered to retrieve her instead of the customary page.

Perhaps it was due to how little they had seen each other in the days previous, the knight mused as he strode purposefully through the castle hallways. At first, this had given him some measure of relief; his now-nightly habit of poring over _The Ogler’s Digest_ in the darkened hush of his bedchambers had made him quite unable to meet the princess’s eye each morning, burning with the guilt of his actions.

But increasingly, he found himself craving the very sight of her; to study her movements and expressions that he might apply them to those wicked fantasies that provoked such shame in the light of day. He had not seen her since the afternoon before, and felt almost as a man starved by her absence.

A quick word with a passing servant on the main floor sent him in the direction of the stables. He had thought the princess’s riding lessons over for the day, but mayhap there had been some delay.

As Hendrik entered the musty building, he snagged an apple from a basket hanging near the door. Obsidian had been sorely neglected by his master of late, and it would take but a moment to proffer a peace offering to his cantankerous mount. He heard voices as he approached the stall and soon picked out the lightness of Princess Jade’s voice among them.

“...was absolutely riveting,” she was saying. “Rab even managed to get us front-row seats and I watched every match.”

“That was the first one Vince Vanquish won, wasn’t it?” came a wistful voice.

“Yes—although rumours of his prowess have been somewhat exaggerated,“ she responded drily.

Hendrik turned the corner and beheld a remarkable sight. Princess Jade stood some feet away, chatting with two of the stablehands. This was not an uncommon occurrence in and of itself; the princess often took the time to connect with the servants, seeming far more comfortable with them than the nobility.

What _was_ unusual was that she had positioned herself before Obsidian’s stall as she conversed, and the horse had thrust his head down to accept her hand on his nose, his eyes closed in lazy contentment.

The princess looked up as the knight approached. “Hendrik,” she said in surprise, her hand pausing mid-stroke. Her eyes darted over to Obsidian and back in an almost guilty manner.

“I came to attend to my mount, but it seems I have been well replaced,” Hendrik remarked as he joined her. The stablehands made quick half-bows to him and he nodded in return.

Obsidian’s eyes had opened at the sound of his master’s voice. He gave Hendrik a flat, unimpressed look before impatiently shoving his nose against Princess Jade’s still hand and waiting for her to resume. She huffed a laugh and gave him a quick rub before pulling away.

“Does my father need me?” she asked Hendrik.

He nodded. “He requests your attendance in the audience chamber upstairs, Your Highness.”

As she gathered up her riding equipment, Hendrik stayed at the stall and offered the apple to Obsidian, which was only grudgingly accepted. It seemed he had indeed lost favour in comparison to the gentle touch of the princess, but the knight could not in good conscience fault his mount for such an opinion.

“Thank you,” the princess said to the stablehands when she was ready to go. “I’ll have to come back and tell you more about the tournament sometime.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, Princess!” one of them, a young woman, replied earnestly. “It sounds incredible—I’ve always wanted to go.”

Princess Jade smiled and hefted her pack on her shoulder. “If you think the fifteenth anniversary was exciting, wait until I get to the one _I_ took part in last year.”

Hendrik felt an unpleasant jolt run through his body. His racing mind barely acknowledged the good-byes between the princess and the stablehands, and he ignored the offended huff from Obsidian when he failed to bid a proper farewell to the horse. The knight followed his princess back to the castle proper in a daze of confusion.

The princess seemed content enough with silence as they walked. The faint pink cast to her cheeks that had characterized her appearance of late was notably absent that day, and Hendrik distractedly wondered if she had now recovered from some unknown minor illness. Although, he did recall that only the previous morning she had notably coloured when he had mentioned to the king his needing to return to his quarters to peruse a military document. Peculiar; but ultimately not relevant to the matter at hand.

“You spoke of the tournament, Your Highness?” he asked in as offhand a manner as he was capable of; which was to say, suitable for a state dinner of a mere _dozen_ instead of scores.

“Yes,” she replied easily, not looking up at him. “Rab and I were there a few years back—not participating, but to watch.”

“Ah.” Hendrik cleared his throat to mask the sudden constriction there. “I had thought Lord Robert and yourself to be on the _southern_ continent during that time in your travels.”

“It was before that,” the princess explained. ”We were in Octagonia posing as scholars of martial history.” She scrunched up her nose in distaste. “He even made me wear spectacles. They were absolutely dreadful, not like the ones—”

_Scholar, not dancer._ Hendrik barely noticed how she had abruptly cut herself off, so overcome he was with relief. He let out a breath he had not even realized he was holding. That he had even for one _second_ supposed the ghastly account to have been true—

Princess Jade gave him a half-glance. “What does it matter?”

“It does not,” he declared, slightly too quickly. In order to move past the moment, he cast about for some logical addition to the topic.

“I myself had some success in the tournament’s tenth anniversary,” Hendrik continued lamely, before wondering whatever had possessed him to boast in such an unseemly manner.

“I know,” was her only reply. He pressed his lips tightly together and spoke no more, determined not to give any further offense with his thoughtless pretension.

When they reached the stairs in the Great Hall, Hendrik bowed to the princess and took his leave. There was a backlog of correspondence to attend to in his chambers, and he had some hopes of finishing before lunch.

“Hendrik,” she said then, and he turned back automatically.

To his mild alarm, that strange flush was once more on her face. “You’ll have to tell me about that tournament sometime,” she said, fiddling with one of her armguards. “I heard you were magnificent.”

Defying all reason and respectability, the combination of Princess Jade’s fetchingly winsome colouring and her sincere compliment toward his martial prowess had the marked effect of awakening Hendrik’s over-indulged libido. He quickly turned away from her again before she could notice the rapidly expanding evidence of his desire.

“It...would be my honour, Princess,” he responded in a strained voice. “Now, if you will excuse me—”

Hendrik strode away without a backward glance and did not stop until he had reached his quarters and shut the door behind him. He leaned against it for a long moment, his breath catching in his chest. The insistence of his excited cock had not lessened in the intervening time, and it throbbed when he brushed one tentative hand against the front of his trousers.

He looked over at his desk with its hidden temptations. It was unthinkable to consider giving in to such base desires when there was work to be done. Moreover, he was beginning to realize the dangers in catering so recklessly to his prurient whims; the princess must never discover him in such a compromising state, lest her opinion of him diminish forever.

Better to focus on his duty and exercise the self-control he had trained so diligently to master. Hendrik squared his shoulders and set to his task with determination.

 

* * *

 

He lasted all of five minutes before he was reaching for his trouser laces and sincerely— _desperately_ —vowing this to be a singular exception; nothing more.


	4. Issue #4: The Halberd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you _specifically_ by [this picture](https://imgur.com/a/dUTVG48) of Hendrik. [(source)](https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=66636946)
> 
> You're welcome.

Hendrik paused to brush damp hair out of his eyes before returning his hand to its firm grip around the hilt of his sword. He took in a short breath, focused on his target, and then thrust forward with a grunt of effort.

The training dummy absorbed the blow with a dull thud and tilted ominously on its wooden stand. Hendrik eyed it warily; two of its companions were lying in pieces on the training room floor, casualties of these past hours of vigorous practice. If the third were to follow them to an untimely demise, he would needs halt the session to track down the carpenter.

He stepped away to retrieve his water flask from a nearby bench and drank deeply from the lukewarm canteen. After a moment’s consideration, he then lifted it over his head to splash a liberal amount on his face. It was a sweltering evening in late summer and all of Heliodor seemed to droop with lethargy. The king had suspended court duties that day and most of the nobles had taken advantage of the respite to visit summer villas and rest in water-cooled gardens.

Not so for the king’s preeminent knight. After having entered his quarters just past lunch to discover the arrival of a familiar, nondescript package, he had spent the latter half of the afternoon in the officers’ training room, determinedly focusing every ounce of energy on defeating inanimate objects in hard-won victory.

Hendrik grabbed his long-discarded linen tunic from beside the flask and used it to wipe his face off. Normally he would never remove his shirt outside of his own quarters, hewing strictly at all times to an ideal of propriety that some might charitably call _obscure_ , but the day’s heat and his relentless training regimen had necessitated the exception. He could feel sweat trickling continuously down his bare chest and back, following the grooves of the musculature in its path.

He sat heavily upon the bench and stared hard at the distant wall of the courtyard. Images and words swirled together in his scattered mind, but he refused to let them coalesce into the forms he had studied so intently mere hours before. Better to take a moment to let the ache ease out of his tired limbs and then return to training; the more exhausted he was as a consequence, the better.

Some minutes later, having finally caught his breath again, Hendrik had just made the decision to rise when the door clicked open and someone joined him in the courtyard. He knew without looking—and with a despairing resignation borne from weeks of quiet torture—who it surely must be.

Light footsteps approached to a distance of several feet away and then stopped.

“Hello, Hendrik,” said Princess Jade.

Just the sound of her voice sent something hot curling down through Hendrik’s stomach, but he deliberately ignored it. He wearily hoisted himself up from the bench and made a perfunctory bow, still not looking at her.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” Hendrik responded. He had a thought of apologizing for his scandalous appearance, but the idea of alluding to _any_ state of undress in front of the princess felt quite beyond him at the moment.

She had fallen silent before him; he could only surmise that she was scanning the room, making note of the broken dummies and discarded weapons littering the floor.

“Do you mind if I train?” the princess asked then, as she always did. Though she occasionally joined in with the troops’ morning exercises, Hendrik had found her to demonstrate a clear preference for solitary practice in the officers’ training ground. In the beginning, he had taken care to inform her of his usual schedule, so that she might have the courtyard to herself if desired; but rather than meeting her _less_ often as a result, she had almost seemed to appear _more_.

On ordinary days, Hendrik welcomed the company. Princess Jade was a skilled fighter and he took genuine pleasure in watching the deadly grace with which she moved. He offered such advice and demonstration as she requested, and they occasionally even sparred together. Though the princess always met with defeat at his hands—at least after he had stopped suppressing his true strength against her; she had had forceful words for him upon her realization of this strategy, and he had apologized profusely for the insult—she listened attentively to his suggestions for improvement, and he was optimistic that her victory might someday be at hand.

Today, however, was far, _far_ from an ordinary day.

“No,” he replied to her question, making a decision even as he turned to the bench and started gathering his belongings. “I am quite finished. The room is yours, Princess.”

Another pause. “Ah,” she said evenly. “All right, then.”

Hendrik heard her walk away to the weapons rack against the far wall. He busily continued his own preparations, shoving his water flask and gloves into his pack and eyeing his shirt with some distaste. He realized the necessity of his donning it anew, but could already feel his skin crawling at the thought of contact with the sweat-damp fabric.

Delaying the inevitable as long as possible, he first strode back over to the dummy to gather up the equipment he had brought with him for practice. The princess had by then moved to the centre of the sparring ring, spinning and jabbing her weapon with fierce determination, and he could not but glance at her as he passed.

He was immediately and profoundly struck in two significant ways:

The first, was that she was by far the most breathtaking woman he had ever laid eyes upon. He looked on helplessly as her lithe body twirled and spun with the motion of her attacks, long hair twisting around herself in a mesmerizing fashion. He knew that he could watch her for a day, a year, a _lifetime_ , and never tire of her uniquely beautiful violence.

The second, was that her technique with the halberd—a weapon he had never seen her employ before—was _appallingly_ lacking.

“It is not a spear, Your Highness,” he said, before he was even aware of his mouth opening. The princess paused mid-motion; although she was facing away from him, he could tell by her tilted head that she was listening.

“Although many varieties of polearm will accommodate the thrusting attack you favour,” Hendrik continued, finding brief solace in the familiarity of instruction, “you should instead focus your efforts on slashing sideways, to take advantage of the blade.”

Princess Jade turned toward him, the halberd propped up at her side, and Hendrik abruptly became aware— _exceptionally_ aware—of the manner in which _she_ was allaying the heat.

The princess had donned her familiar black shorts—disquieting in and of themselves—but her customary tank top had been foregone in favour of a markedly _shorter_ variety, with a far more plunging neckline. It was, admittedly, not so risqué as to be indecent; but the unexpected sight, combined with recent memory of the artwork that was well on its way to becoming burned into Hendrik’s mind, stole his breath away in a strangled gasp.

He sent a brief, thankful prayer to the heavens that he had deliberately chosen his most constraining underclothes as well as his darkest pair of trousers for this excursion to the training room. Though the concealment of his stiffening erection would not bear up to intense scrutiny, it seemed unlikely the princess would engage herself in such an occupation.

“How do I keep control when I swing, though?” she asked with a frown, oblivious to the knight’s turmoil. There was already a light sheen of dampness on her chest and she brushed her bangs out of her face with impatient fingers.

“That...” Hendrik warred with himself for an agonized moment, torn between decamping immediately from such overpowering temptation as this, and his duty to assist his princess in her weapons practice.

When she experimentally swept the halberd to the side with her weight shifted onto entirely the wrong foot, he knew his fate was sealed.

“Like so, Princess,” he said, depositing his bundle of weapons on the floor and joining her in the centre of the ring. He reached out in wordless request and she handed him the halberd before stepping back to give him room for his demonstration.

Though he knew her to be watching intently with a trained warrior’s eye, studying his form so that she might try to emulate it afterward, he could not help but note that her gaze seemed to rather linger on certain aspects of his body that bore no relation to the task at hand. On the third occasion of catching her eyeing his abdominal muscles instead of the positioning of his hands on the pole, he wondered with dismay if his half-undressed state was causing her some unease after all.

Princess Jade seemed focused on the exercise, however, when she eventually raised one hand to stop him. “Let me try again,” she said, taking the halberd back with determination. This time, he saw a dramatic improvement in her technique, and marvelled again at the ease with which she attained combative prowess.

“You twist overmuch with your slashes, Your Highness,” Hendrik remarked after a few minutes of observation. “Turn from the waist, not the legs.”

“Like this?” she asked, making an attempt without substantial improvement.

“No, you must—” He had instinctively stepped forward, his hands outstretched to guide her as he would any trainee under his care, when he realized the full ramifications of the action and stopped short.

The princess had noticed the interrupted movement and glanced down at his hands before her gaze returned to his own. “Show me,” she ordered him, her tone resolute.

Hendrik swallowed hard. The setting sun was fading into the mountains beyond the castle walls and slowly turning the outdoor room to dusk, though with little abatement as to the heat. His heart pounded in his chest and his palms were damp with sweat.

He felt lightheaded as he approached his princess, now turned away from him so that he could step up behind her. He slowly brought his hands up to either side of her hips, hovering with agonized hesitation, before he gently rested his calloused fingers against the bare skin of a woman’s body for the first time. If she took in a sharp breath at the contact, then it was entirely dwarfed by his own choked gasp.

His immediate, dizzying impression was of how _slight_ she was; his hands, though carefully touching only as much as was necessary for the task, could easily engulf the entirety of her waist if desired. That he very, very much _did_ desire was only one of a thousand inappropriate thoughts that flitted through his frazzled mind. Her skin beneath his fingertips was warmer and softer than he ever could have imagined, and the mixture of floral perfume and sweat from the heat and exertion was intoxicating.

With the efforts of a doomed soldier determined to face the end on _his_ terms only, Hendrik grimly pulled his thoughts away from such unseemly avenues; the princess had requested assistance in training, not to be desperately lusted after by a man a full decade and more beyond her.

“Begin,” her father’s sworn knight said hoarsely.

Princess Jade automatically shifted backward as she raised the halberd again and Hendrik jerked away just in time, narrowly avoiding her body making contact with his constrained erection. His grip on her hips instinctively tightened and she paused for a moment before pulling the weapon back and heaving a slash into the air.

Hendrik held on as she repeated the motion several dozen times, in what quickly became one of the more tortuous experiences of his life. Her hair brushed against his exposed stomach as she moved and the feather-light touches sent shivers up and down his spine. She let out quiet grunts with each swipe and he could easily imagine them in an altogether _different_ context, his hands pressed just as firmly against her body higher or lower down. He watched the hypnotic swing of the halberd through a haze of desire, utterly powerless to move, talk, or even breathe.

It was the princess who inadvertently prompted a sudden change in the situation. She overextended with one of her swipes and shifted her lower body to compensate, pressing herself quite firmly up against the front of Hendrik’s trousers. He immediately let go of her hips and stumbled back as if burned, causing her to lose her balance and be sent spinning around with the momentum of her swing, weapon flailing wildly through the air toward him.

With enormous effort, the princess regained control within a hair’s breadth of the halberd reaching Hendrik. His arms were raised defensively before him, while the blade of her weapon trembled in the air, half an inch from his neck. They stood facing each other for a long moment, breathing heavily.

“Well—I finally seem to have defeated you, Sir Hendrik,” Princess Jade said. She did not lower the halberd from its looming position.

“You...show remarkable aptitude for the weapon, Princess,” he rasped in response. He took in a shuddering breath and the edge of the blade nearly brushed against his throat.

He watched raptly as her own chest filled up with air and the halberd edged the slightest bit closer. This time he felt the light press of the metal against his neck, just shy of breaking the skin, and his cock grew impossibly harder in his trousers.

“And what do I get for my victory, hm?” she asked, her voice low and dark in a way he had never heard before.

Hendrik’s heart thudded in his ears and he found himself drinking in the sight of her despite the precariousness of his situation. Her damp hair stuck to her face in wispy tendrils and her clothes clung tightly against every curve. Sweat slowly trailed a long path from her neck to her collarbone and finally disappeared into the cleft between her breasts. Her eyes were intent on his, a strange fierceness lit within them.

Just as he watched the princess’s face harden, steeling herself for some kind of action, the door clicked open behind him.

They both jerked back and whirled to face the newcomer. It was one of Hendrik’s lieutenants, striding into the courtyard holding his pack and whistling some tuneless melody. He stopped short when he noticed their presence.

“Sir Hendrik! Princess Jade!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, I thought it was empty in here.”

The lieutenant paused, taking in the tone of the room. “I’m, uh—not interrupting anything, am I?” he asked with some nervousness. He eyed the princess’s halberd and his gaze shifted between the two of them.

“No,” Hendrik declared before the princess could speak. “No, I was on my way out.” Suddenly it was absolutely _imperative_ that he retreat from the darkening room and its irresistible dangers. He hurriedly turned and gathered up his discarded pile of weaponry once more, snagging his pack with one hand as he passed by the bench. The shirt he stuffed inside of it, decorum be damned in his rush to leave.

When everything was in order, Hendrik turned to the officer. “Lieutenant,” he nodded. “I shall see you for morning drills.”

The lieutenant saluted sharply in response. Then, Hendrik faced his princess.

“Princess Jade,” he said to her, a slight gravel in his voice. He ducked his head in a bow.

When he raised it again, she was looking straight at him, an unreadable expression on her face. She studied him for a long moment and then nodded without saying a word. Taking that as permission to leave, Hendrik hastily strode to the door.

He glanced back one last time as he left and saw her chatting easily with the lieutenant as if nothing had happened; nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

When Hendrik got back to his room, he did not waste a single second. The pack and weapons were unceremoniously tossed on the floor in a loud clatter. He was at his desk in a flash, yanking open the drawer and grabbing the latest issue of _The Ogler’s Digest_ from within. He tore it open to the page that was already dogeared and rumpled from a score of desperate perusals and laid it on the top of the desk, fumbling with the laces of his trousers.

He let out a strangled groan when his fingers finally closed around his aching cock. His eyes flitted over the surface of the magazine as he pumped himself wildly, torn between focusing on the artwork or the accompanying article.

 

**Ravishing Royal Roundup: Princess of Punishment**

_Have we got a treat for you THIS time, Distinguished Readers! While we’ve talked about Princess Jade’s buxom beauty, it turns out this Heliodorian Hellcat has CLAWS! A fearsome martial artist with some truly STUNNING skills, she can make mincemeat of even the most capable competitor. And get this: she also frequently fights as a bodacious BUNNY GIRL to charm her opponents before going in for the kill! After what one loyal reader wrote, we can’t say we blame them! “I have had the privilegio of seeing the princesa in her bunny outfit,” said P.D. from Puerto Valor. “Truly maravillosa she was, but with such anger! I almost feared she would step on me. Or maybe even_ hoped _she would, ay ay ay!” Sounds like you’ve got to be careful not to get on THIS bunny’s bad side—unless you really want to! Now that she’s back in Heliodor, we’ve heard rumours she’s been working out her urges with some PRIVATE training_ — _no surprise with a whole castle full of willing victims at her mercy! So have YOU been good, gentlemen? Or is Princess Jade going to need to inflict some royal punishment?_

 

Alongside the text was the most detailed drawing yet: the princess garbed in a skin-tight black leather outfit, fishnet stockings on her legs, a pair of perky bunny ears upon her head. A whip was pulled taut between her hands, and her teasing smirk full of dark promise.

Hendrik squeezed his eyes shut. He thought of her ordering him to the ground in the training room, weapon poised threateningly before her. He pictured her slipping off those tiny shorts and kneeling beside him. He imagined her straddling his face, almost suffocating him with the heady scent of her arousal. And when she commanded him to pleasure his princess, he would obey without question.

This was madness. He knew he was on a precipice, all his hard-won noble ideals in tatters around him. But his frantic hand was helpless before the image he fixed on, of her rocking her hips against his mouth as she gasped his name; he gave himself over to it, a man adrift in a sea of depravity.

Hendrik came with a harsh cry, splattering the glossy pages with the evidence of his desperate desire.


	5. Issue #5: The Desk

Hendrik’s stern vow to abstain from all further daylight transgressions was put to its true test upon the arrival of the next issue.

He was in his quarters that morning, having forgone his usual duties on the parade ground in an attempt to tackle his necessary correspondence before lunch. The king was hosting a ball in honour of the new treaty with Lonalulu, and Hendrik knew his night would be entirely occupied with tedious conversation, raucous music, and as many contrived excuses to avoid dancing as allowed by common etiquette. Not his first choice in evening pastimes, but a stalwart knight of the realm learned to be philosophical about such things.

Aside from which, the Luminary had expressed his intention on attending the event, and Hendrik had some hopes of spending time with the young man. His duties kept him too busy to make frequent visits, but Princess Jade often travelled to Cobblestone to reaffirm that connection so deeply important to her. He knew she had been anticipating the ball with extra enthusiasm due to its promise of reunion.

A tap on the door came.

“Enter,” he said shortly, not looking up from his writing. The Sultan of Gallopolis had had several questions about the training of his son, and Hendrik was attempting to compose a response both diplomatic enough to assuage his concerns, but not so cooperative he would at all be tempted to _send_ the boy to Heliodor.

The light footsteps of his maid pattered in. “Mail for you, Sir Hendrik,” she chirped as she approached his desk.

He did look up, then. Her arms were full of various manners of scrolls and envelopes, as well as— _ah_.

She carefully deposited the pile on one corner of his desk, saving the large package for last. This, she presented to him directly with a reverence quite at odds with what he knew it to contain.

“Another classified intelligence, Sir Hendrik,” she said in a hushed voice, as if devious spies lurked somewhere within the confines of his bedchambers.

“My thanks,” he told her with a small cough, accepting the package with slightly shaking hands. “Carry on.”

She bobbed a curtsy and quickly left the room.

Hendrik laid the brown envelope in the very centre of his desk and stared at it. On every previous occasion, he had torn into the packaging with breathless anticipation, unable to wait even a second before revealing its captivating contents. But now, with the morning sunshine filtering through the window, he was starkly reminded of the line he had drawn in hopes of preventing further derelictions of honour.

He glanced at the timepiece on the wall. His correspondence would occupy him until lunch, and then there was his appointment with the farrier before Obsidian’s daily ride. By the time he got back it would be well necessary to start preparations for the ball, which itself would fill up the entirety of his evening. In all likelihood, Hendrik would not be able to read the issue until the early hours of the morning at best, and the night afterward at worst.

The impatient drum of his fingers on the desk echoed throughout the room.

Extraordinary circumstances necessitated extraordinary action, he told himself as he ripped through the edge of the paper envelope. Absurdly, he felt a tightening in his trousers while he worked, as if this ritual itself was now stimulation enough to stoke his eager desires. In moments he had the magazine in his hands and was performing his customary scan of the cover for the pertinent page number so that he might—

Hendrik’s heart stopped in his chest as he gaped at the words before him.

 

**Princess Jade’s SECRET LOVER?**

_You’ll never guess who! Get all the EXCLUSIVE details inside! (pg.8)_

 

For a long moment he found himself utterly powerless to move. He reread the headline over and over, trying to derive some sense from it that was somehow eluding him. Finally, with a shaking hand, he carefully peeled back the cover and thumbed through the pages until he reached the one he sought. After taking a deep breath, he flipped the magazine open on top of the desk.

The artwork, quite naturally, struck him first. Princess Jade, dressed in a flowing gown of soft lavender, was clasped in the arms of another figure, gazing up at him with such a look of passion on her face as twisted Hendrik’s stomach. The man, taller and more muscular in art than in life, was nonetheless so strikingly close in likeness as for his identity to be undeniable; if little else, that truly enviable head of hair would always be his telltale feature.

It was none other than the Luminary himself.

Hendrik felt his breath coming in shallow gasps. Thought seemed quite beyond him at the present moment, and so he turned with wide eyes to the article.

 

**Ravishing Royal Roundup: Princess Jade’s Amorous Affair**

_Have we got a scoop for YOU today, Distinguished Readers! It seems that perfect Princess Jade has been hiding a SECRET! For the past few months, she’s been carrying on a lascivious liaison—with none other than the LUMINARY himself! According to an EXCLUSIVE source, it all started when the two reunited in Dundrasil after many years apart. Apparently some sizzling sparks must have flown, because after a disastrous encounter with the steel-hearted Sir Hendrik, they stayed the night in a cozy cabin together—ALONE! As the source said, “who ever heard of a guy and a girl spending a night in a cabin WITHOUT something funny going on?” Gentlemen, we can’t help but concur. The torrid trysts continued throughout their journey to save the world, and we bet our lovely lady was able to give our hero QUITE the incentive to keep going. (Thank you, Princess!) Rumour has it that the fiery fling continues to this day, despite more than one winsome woman eager to take Princess Jade’s place. We know, Distinguished Readers, that this must come as a blow to some of you. But can we really begrudge the saviour of Erdrea his happiness—ESPECIALLY in a form as pleasing as this pretty princess? Keep sending in your steamy stories and we’ll see you next time!_

 

Hendrik fell back in his chair, staring into the air with unseeing eyes. It _must_ be baseless speculation, he thought wildly to himself. He had always assumed that the princess looked upon the Luminary as a brother, much as Hendrik did himself. Surely there had never been anything more to their relationship than that. But if there were _any_ possibility of truth to this report...

He glanced back at the article and recalled that day by the bridge in Dundrasil, in what had turned out to be one of the more shameful misjudgements of his life. Princess Jade and the Luminary _had_ been together, presumably since their fall from the cliffs the night before. Unbidden, Hendrik had an image of the princess, her clothes wet and clinging to her, ministering to the Luminary with tender care as he gazed adoringly at her.

Countless small clues began to come to mind. The princess often insisted on his staying home when she visited Cobblestone; he had always credited it toward her attentiveness to his considerable workload, but now he was uncertain. When the Luminary made an appearance at balls and banquets, she seemed to take special care in her appearance, such that Hendrik’s breath was quite stolen away at the sight of her. She talked of the Luminary frequently, as well, and with such affection as bespoke a significant closeness between them. He was younger, admittedly, but had proven himself as a man a thousand times over during their journeys.

The knight’s heart turned to lead as he slowly realized that her relationship with the Luminary was _not_ akin to her relationship with Hendrik himself. And if she regarded _him_ as a mere companionable, platonic comrade, then it stood to reason that the Luminary must be something else entirely—perhaps something _more_.

Hendrik buried his head in his hands and breathed deeply through his nose for a time. Eventually, the chiming of his clock brought him back to sensibility, and he lifted his face. He purposefully opened his desk drawer, shoved the magazine inside, and stood. The day marched on, with many duties to attend to.

And if he did so with throat closed tight and heart twisting painfully in his chest, then it was no less than he deserved.

 

* * *

 

Hendrik stood in the shadows of one of the balconies overlooking the Great Hall, his gloved hands tight upon the railing. The party was in full swing below, scores of brightly-dressed couples spinning and twirling on the marbled floor as the musicians played energetically.

He had retreated early this evening; his usual custom dictated at least an hour of socializing before he could strategically judge his withdrawal to go unnoticed by the king. But he found that on this night of all nights, he lacked the ability to discourse without distraction, attend without inattention.

Especially not when his eyes had kept following a very _specific_ couple in their sprightly movements about the dance floor.

The knight sighed heavily. Perhaps it might be best to plead some vague indisposition to the king and pray that his mood lent itself to clemency. Aside from him, none would notice Hendrik’s absence from the ball, and the general air would certainly not suffer as a result.

He heard the sudden sharp click of heels on the floor with a weary resignation. The princess had almost seemed to defy his thoughts by _design_ in recent months, so why should this night be any exception?

“ _There_ you are,” came her voice from several feet away. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Hendrik turned and made her a low bow, a gesture as natural to him as drawing breath into his lungs. “Princess Jade,” he said formally.

When he rose and finally turned his gaze on her, at a closer distance than he had been all evening, he did not see the crease of her brow or the slight downward tilt of her lips. He saw instead the sumptuous new gown she wore, delivered that very week from the dressmaker. The wait had been well worth it, for it molded to her every curve and highlighted her every feature as if she had been born to wear it. The jade colouring perfectly brought out the violet of her eyes and the dark hue of her hair. Her accents, few but striking, emphasized the elegant line of her neck and the tantalizing contour of her breasts in their lacy enclosure. She had obviously taken great care in her appearance that night, greater even than usual for a gala of this kind.

The end result was _transcendent;_ and also, he knew in his heart of hearts, _not_ for his benefit.

“Isn’t it a bit early for you to be making your escape?” the princess asked in a teasing manner that did not quite reflect itself in her eyes.

“A sudden fatigue, Your Highness,” he responded distantly. “With the king’s permission, I may soon retire.”

Hendrik watched as her gaze searched his face, all playfulness vanished. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She bit her lip a moment and he found, with a quiet despair, that even his recent realizations could not keep her from being the most alluring creature he had ever seen in his life.

“Hendrik,” she said then, unusually hesitant. “Are you quite all right? Not just tonight, but—lately. My father’s been a bit worried about you, and...well, so have I.”

“I am perfectly well, Your Highness,” he replied stiffly, looking off to one side. “You need not concern yourself for my sake.”

She was silent for a short time and then he heard her step closer. There was movement in his peripheral vision and his eyes darted back to her.

The princess was holding out her gloved hands to him, a small smile on her face. He caught the scent of her perfume in the air and his knees suddenly felt unequal to the task of holding up his considerable size.

“Then dance with me, Sir Hendrik,” she entreated him. “Just the once—I promise I won’t torture you any longer than that.”

He swallowed hard, his answer caught in his throat. She was correct in one thing: it _would_ be torture for him no matter the length, to hold her close and feel her warmth and think only of what would forever exist in fantasy.

“Please,” she added, and it was nearly his undoing. No artist could ever do justice to the sight of her now, garbed like a queen with the candlelight dancing in her eyes.

Hendrik looked out over the Great Hall again, desperately seeking some salvation from this looming torment. Abruptly, he found it: the Luminary had stepped upon the staircase, obviously searching for his erstwhile dance partner.

The knight set his jaw. “Forgive me, Princess,” he said quietly. He strode past her beseeching hands and left her there on the balcony; an act of cowardice more profound than anything he had ever imagined himself capable of.

 

* * *

 

That night, he sat in his chair before the fire with the latest issue of _The Ogler’s Digest_ clasped loosely in his hands.

In reality, it mattered not what comprised the true nature of Princess Jade’s relationship with the Luminary. Regardless of the situation, it was, truthfully, not any of Hendrik’s business. For too long now, he had pried into the princess’s affairs with the eagerness of a lecherous voyeur, no better than any other depraved peruser of the publication. The specious arguments he had adopted to justify his obsession lay crumbled at his feet, and he felt a vast sense of shame wash over him.

It was well time to decide what sort of man he aspired to be. He would write Lord Robert on the morrow and seek the former royal’s counsel so that he might put an end to the whole abhorrent affair, before the king or the princess discovered it. And then, all would be as it should again.

Hendrik turned back to his desk, intending on returning the magazine to its place with the others, bound tightly together to prevent any further temptation of use. But at the last moment, he hesitated.

In one smooth movement he twisted around and cast it into the fire instead, where flames instantly licked over it and began to turn the glossy pages black. He sat there staring into the blaze for some time, long after the magazine had been reduced to unrecognizable ash.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Hendrik was prevented from his intended course of action by an urgent summons from the king. Rather than the usual audience chamber, he was instead called to his liege’s private room.

King Carnelian was sitting on a richly-upholstered couch in his dressing gown, a half-drunk cup of tea on the table in front of him. Although normally also scattered with various scrolls and parchments, there was today only one, affixed with a seal that Hendrik recognized at a glance as the royal house of Dundrasil’s.

The king had looked up as he entered, and the ominous expression on his face instantly filled the knight with unease.

“You wished to see me, Sire?” Hendrik asked, bowing low with his fist to his heart.

“Yes, yes,” King Carnelian said, waving his knight up again with an impatient hand as he fumbled for something at his side. “I have had a letter from Robert, relating a matter of such grave concern as requires immediate attention.”

“I await only your command to—” Hendrik abruptly cut himself off, quite unable to speak around the unique sensation of being strangled by his own tongue.

In his hands, the king held a copy of _The Ogler’s Digest_. Even from a short distance, the words ‘EXCLUSIVE! Lost Princess of Heliodor Returns!’ could be clearly seen on the front cover.

“I have been informed by Robert that this vile periodical has been publishing libellous articles about my daughter for some time now.” The king’s beard bristled as he spoke, outrage infusing every word. “He assured me that he had cancelled his subscription and wrote a strongly worded letter upon his first realization, but it seems their treachery knows no bounds, as they have apparently continued unabated.”

Hendrik felt quite unequal to such monumental actions as speech, movement, or even breath. Fortunately, King Carnelian did not require his input in order to lurch up from the couch and begin to pace about the room.

“Robert had only this first issue to send,” the king continued furiously, waving the magazine in the air. “I cannot even _imagine_ what nefarious lies must have been printed in the others!”

For one wild moment, Hendrik vacillated between sustaining his silence, and informing the king of his knowledge of the entire affair while begging for undeserved mercy. In the end, his concern for the royal family won out; there would be time enough to confess his sins, _after_ His Majesty’s health and safety were secured and the princess’s reputation protected.

“I...am as dismayed as you by this deplorable circumstance, Your Majesty,” he finally choked out, not untruthfully. The king made an outraged noise and continued his restless pacing.

After another moment, he rounded on his knight. “Hendrik,” he ordered, “I would have you take your men and shut this operation down—at _once_. Robert provided an address in Downtown Heliodor for their headquarters.” He paused, and his voice grew cold. “Show these treasonous wretches that the king’s mercy indeed has its limits.”

At the sound of his lord’s directive, Hendrik straightened, finally rallied from his mental tumult. “As you command, Sire!” he declared, hand once again to his heart.

“I need not emphasize the importance of secrecy in this,” his liege warned ominously. “I would not have _anyone_ discover this abomination’s existence—least of all my daughter.”

“I shall exercise the utmost discretion in carrying out your orders,” Hendrik assured him grimly.

“Good. Go make your preparations,” King Carnelian said, settling back down on his couch with a wave of dismissal. He shook his head in disgust. “To think that such persons as would write—or _read—_ this putridity could exist within the walls of my own kingdom!”

Hendrik paused at the door, one trembling hand resting upon it.

“After today...” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “After today, no evidence of this wickedness will remain, Your Majesty. I swear it.”

 

* * *

 

Princess Jade caught up with Hendrik as he was marching to the barracks later that morning. His men had been informed of their mission and ordered to make themselves ready; all that was left now was to set out and fulfill their righteous obligation to the crown.

“What are you up to, Hendrik?” she asked, forced almost into a jog to match his relentless pace.

“The king’s orders, Your Highness,” he replied shortly.

“I’ve gathered _that_ ,” the princess said, and he knew without looking that she accompanied the words with a roll of her eyes. “My father’s been in a rage all morning, but he won’t tell me why.”

“Then it would ill befit me to speak contrary to his wishes, Princess,” Hendrik informed her, hoping—without much expectation of success—that this would dissuade her from additional questions. In furtherance of that goal, his stride lengthened considerably, and then she _was_ compelled to trot after him.

“Hendrik, _wait—_ ” As they passed through to the alcoves in the Great Hall, the princess snagged his sleeve and he jerked to a stop. She moved in front of him to block his way, her hands on her hips. With a vast reluctance, he finally looked at her. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips pressed thin with discontentment.

“Whatever this is about, I don’t need you—or _anyone_ —to protect me,” the princess said in a clipped voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a child anymore.”

Heavens, how he knew that to be true. Princess Jade was every inch a woman as she stood before him: brave and beautiful and clever and strong, and deserving _far_ more than to have her sworn knight consumed with such terrible desire for her.

Hendrik clenched his fists tightly at his side. He _would_ end this, that very day, and put every vulgar and improper thought behind him. For Heliodor, and his future queen.

The princess was frowning at him, clearly expecting some response or explanation, but he had none to give. Instead, he bowed wordlessly and stepped around her, continuing on his path toward the barracks and the restoration of his honour.

She did not follow.

 

* * *

 

Hendrik’s gloved hand gripped his sword hilt firmly as he waited for word from his men that they had surrounded the ramshackle building Lord Robert’s directions had pointed them to. A small sign on the door with ‘The Ogler’s Digest’ written in fanciful lettering had proved his information accurate.

Downtown Heliodor was as busy as ever, bustling with miscreants and ne’er-do-wells in their undoubtedly illicit tasks. Though he and his men had foregone their usual armour, hoping to remain nondescript, the knight had noticed many sideways glances from passersby. He kept a watchful eye out, but no took no further action; so long as they did not interfere with his mission, the denizens of this iniquitous place were of no concern to him.

His lieutenant gave the signal and Hendrik nodded. He reached for the door handle with one hand even as he loosened his sword in its scabbard. After taking a quick breath and steeling himself, the knight drew his weapon and burst through the doorway with his soldiers flanking him.

“Cease your villainous actions in the name of the king!” he bellowed, sword pointed impressively before him.

There was a weighty silence. Hendrik suddenly took in the full reality of the situation and blinked.

The room was crammed to the rafters with endless stacks of paper on tables and chairs and cupboards. Pictures and articles adorned every square inch of the walls and even occasionally the ceiling, and there were filing cabinets and dilapidated typewriters scattered about. Looming over all was an enormous printing press, taking up one entire side of the cramped space.

A stout woman with shockingly red hair was sitting at a table in the exact centre of the room. Seeing no other occupant, Hendrik turned his gaze on her.

“You—identify yourself,” he commanded.

“Well, strike a light! If that ain’t a bit o’ a rude way to start,” she sniffed, crossing her arms where she sat. “’Ere I am, goin’ about my own business, when suddenly _you_ lot jump in ’ere ’ollerin’ like anythin’. What’s a poor defenceless woman to do?”

Hendrik’s soldiers exchanged glances as the knight gaped at her. His sword drooped from its threatening position.

“I...That is...” he stuttered, floundering for a moment. He shook his head, trying to recover his wits in this face of this bewildering spectacle. “I must _insist_ on having your name,” he declared, the solid ground of virtuous purpose once more behind him.

The woman looked singularly unimpressed. “It’s Ruby, innit? What’s it to you?”

Hendrik cleared his throat, deciding that everyone would be better served the quicker this moved along. “I would speak to your master, Ruby—the one in charge of this degenerate publication.” He thrust his sword back into its sheath in the hopes of appeasing the woman for her assistance.

“Ain’t no one in charge ’round ’ere but me,” she replied with a note of pride in her voice. “‘Course, I got a couple o’ freelancers for the art, but all them words in ev’ry issue? That’s Ruby, make no mistake.”

The knight stared at her. “You...are in charge of _The Ogler’s Digest_?”

Ruby scowled. “What, you think a woman ain’t got what it takes to run a successful business?”

“No, I did not mean—” They were getting rather far afield again. Hendrik drew himself up to his full height and turned the glare of a trained Heliodorian knight upon the woman.

“You have been printing scandalous falsehoods about Her Royal Highness, Princess Jade of Heliodor,” he proclaimed in an icy voice. “I am here on the orders of His Majesty, King Carnelian, to demand the immediate cessation of these activities, on pain of imprisonment.”

Astoundingly, Ruby chuckled. “Well o’ _course_ it’s all lies,” she said, giving him a pitying look. “Ain’t nobody wants to read about the perfect princess who’s brave an’ smart an’ a _complete_ goody two-shoes. I write what sells, don’t I? That’s all it ever is.”

“Then...” Hendrik was having some difficulties keeping up with the conversation. “Then you were fully _aware_ of the erroneous nature of your work?”

“Just part o’ the business,” she shrugged. “Get a few interestin’ scoops, spin ’em into a tale, an’ the next thing you know there’s a princess in a torrid affair wit’ a Luminary and the readers just eat it up!”

He felt suddenly as though he could not breathe. “You admit you created that story out of whole cloth?” he asked sharply. “But what of your source?”

“Ohhh, a fan, are you?” she beamed. “Let me guess—Greg? I get some funny requests from time to time, but I _knew_ somethin’ was fishy about that one.”

Hendrik’s face was all aflame. He did not dare look at his men, and instead focused on Ruby. “Answer the question,” he ordered in a slightly strangled voice.

“You’re a right grumpy one,” she muttered, idly shuffling a stack of papers on the table in front of her. “A source can say whatever you want, can’t it? That one was actually an old friend o’ mine, but ’e didn’t mean any of it like that. And ’e wasn’t exactly saying it _to_ me, either, so much as I was overhearin’ it at the time.” Ruby pursed her lips. “’onestly, I think the Luminary’s kinda got it bad for ’im, anyhow.”

The knight did not know, or care, to what she was referring. A staggering relief had swept through him, so great that it took considerable effort to remain standing in his usual implacable posture. But there would be time enough to dwell on such matters later; for now, he had been given orders by his liege, and he fully intended on carrying them out.

“Back to the matter at hand,” he said loudly, his fingers curling around his sword hilt. “You will print no further articles about the princess and turn over any such related materials to my men for destruction. Additionally, you will cease all operations in Heliodor immediately.” He motioned to his troops behind him.

“Not the first time I’ve been kicked outta somewhere,” Ruby sighed, eyeing the soldiers dolefully as they started swarming the office. “King Gustaf sent _three_ times as many men when ’e got me in Sniflheim for writin’ about _’is_ daughter.”

She shook her head. “I think readers’re gettin’ a little tired o’ the whole princess thing anyway. I had an idea o’ travellin’ to Nautica and seein’ if _mermaids_ might start takin’ off...”

Hendrik spent some time overseeing the construction of a controlled bonfire out front for the purposes of disposing of the lascivious pictures and papers. Ruby stood to one side and scowled as she watched her work quite literally go up in flames.

Eventually, she came over to him and pulled something out of her pocket. “’Ere,” she said, handing it to him. “You could prob’ly use this more than me.”

He accepted it with some confusion. It was a piece of paper, and on it was—

The flush went right up to the roots of his hair this time as he beheld black-and-white artwork of Princess Jade in a tight bustier, gartered stockings on her legs and small wings cocked on her back. She had a sultry smile on her face and her hands teasingly cupped her barely-covered breasts.

“Supposed to be for the next article, but I guess that ain’t ’appenin’ now,” Ruby shrugged. “Was gonna do a whole piece on ’er stint as a puff-puff girl—had some great stories lined up an’ everythin’.”

“You—” Hendrik grated out, his fingers clutching the picture tightly.

“All in the past now, innit?” the woman said, waving a hand at him. “But ’onestly, maybe your princess ain’t as sweet an’ angelic as you think, eh?”

She walked away before Hendrik could reply. He had half a mind to chase after her and drag her to the dungeons after all; but the king had wished for him to be discreet above all else, and there seemed little purpose in drawing further attention to the situation now.

One of his men came up to him and saluted. “Almost got everything, Sir Hendrik.” He nervously eyed the picture his commander held in his hands. “What...do you want us to do with that, Commander?”

After a long moment, Hendrik deliberately crumpled the paper in his fist and handed it to the soldier.

“Burn it,” he said.

 

* * *

 

It was a melancholy knight who walked slowly back through the castle hallways to his quarters that evening.

The king had been well pleased with the success of his expedition, not in the least because it seemed to have gone entirely unnoticed by anyone outside of Downtown Heliodor. The residents of that district seldom mingled with those in the city proper, and certainly not with the nobles or castle servants. Any offending materials had been well disposed of in the bonfire—including all back issues of the magazine—and Ruby had already made plans to leave the city with strict promises to write no further editions of ‘Ravishing Royal Roundup’. It was as much as could be hoped for, and Hendrik had been commended thoroughly by his liege.

There was still one concern weighing on his mind, however—notably the existence of four copies of _The Ogler’s Digest_ hidden within his desk drawer. When he reached his chambers and finally cast them into the fire, he would well and truly have put the matter to a close.

Hendrik was not usually characterized by extensive self-reflection, but this ordeal had forced him to confront certain unpleasant truths about himself in recent months. His exacting standards of honour and propriety, cornerstones of his life for so many years, had faltered in the face of base temptation and indulgence. He had not been the knight—the _man_ —his ideals demanded him to be, and the shame of this failure was not like to dissipate for years to come. All he could do was re-dedicate himself to the service of his king, and prove himself to be as loyal an ally and servant as his future queen required of him.

And perhaps someday, given enough strict discipline and training, he might even be able to think of something _other_ than her lovely face and enticing figure when he lay in bed at night and sought his release.

He arrived at his quarters and went inside, firmly shutting the door behind him. The day’s unexpected events had thrown his schedule awry, and he had many plans to make after he had properly disposed of that last evidence of his weakness. He scrubbed a tired hand across his face and closed his eyes a moment.

Someone in the room cleared their throat.

Hendrik wheeled in place with the instincts of a trained soldier. His sword was halfway out of its scabbard by the time he turned around, but abruptly his hand stuttered and froze mid-action.

Princess Jade was sitting in his chair, her booted legs propped up on top of the desk. Scattered across the wooden surface before her were all four issues of _The Ogler’s Digest,_ each flipped open to its respective royal article.

“Well, Sir Hendrik,” she said in a chilly voice. “You’ve certainly been catching up on your reading, haven’t you?”


	6. The Final Issue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April Fools! These 19,000 words were actually the setup for a Hendrik/Rab fic, who will now spend a _scandalously_ carnal night together consoling each other about the loss of their favourite porno mag. Are _you_ ready to explore the passion that only a mutual Kazing-ing can bring to bedroom escapades?
> 
> ...Okay, so now that I've grossed _myself_ out, here's the end of the fic (with over 25% of the total wordcount, whoops)! Thanks muchly to my husband for being a sounding board for this story as I worked out the kinks (so to speak). It was a ton of fun to write one of my more absurd ideas before I head back to my fic series.
> 
> I appreciate everyone who read along as it was posted and I hope you've enjoyed yourselves! I'd love to hear any thoughts, as always.
> 
> Now excuse me while I go hide my face after finally earning my rating with this chapter here...

Princess Jade’s words hung in the air for an eternal moment of approximately ten seconds.

Hendrik’s mouth worked soundlessly as his eyes darted from her flat expression to the magazines laid open on the desk and back again. His exhaustive, decades-long training had prepared him for any number of unlikely scenarios necessitating swift response; but here in his quarters, with the righteous judgement of his princess upon him, he found himself _entirely_ powerless to act.

A heartbeat; then another, and another. Her cool gaze never wavered from his as he grappled with the waking nightmare he had so abruptly stumbled into.

All at once, as if struck by the most potent Sap that had ever been cast, the knight fell to his knees before her. His sword slipped back into its sheath with a grating scrape as he pressed tight fists to the floor and bowed his head.

“Pr-Princess...” he choked out, struggling for each gulp of air that filled his lungs. “I...I do not...There can be no possible defence for...”

Hendrik squeezed his eyes shut and took in a long, shuddering breath. As disgraceful as his actions had been, he was yet a Knight of Heliodor, and his princess deserved no less than an unequivocal admission of guilt directly from his own lips.

“I...made discovery of these foul fabrications some months ago,” he began hoarsely. “At first I acted with only the noblest of intentions, wishing to...to spare your father and yourself the concern it would cause. But over time...”

He lowered his head still further. “Over time, my conduct has not beseemed that of a loyal servant to the crown. I have given myself over to ignominious temptation and willfully turned my back on the stringent duties of my office.”

The princess remained silent at his desk. Hendrik spoke onward, with the grim resolve of a man leaping into hopeless battle wishing that his sacrifice might in some small part redeem past cowardice.

“I cannot appeal to Your Highness’s mercy, or beg your forgiveness,” he rasped. “My trespasses against your dignity, your reputation, your very character...they are simply too terrible to be borne.” His knuckles whitened underneath his gloves. “Whatever punishment you see fit to exact upon me for this offense...I swear that I will accept it, and gladly.”

Hendrik shut his mouth and trembled in place as he awaited the sharpness of words—or weapon—surely about to befall him.

Princess Jade did not respond for some moments. Then he heard the scrape of the chair on the polished floor and the weight of her footsteps coming closer. They halted directly in front of his stooped form.

Rather than the blow or slash he had anticipated, he felt instead a solid pressure on his front, pushing insistently. His eyes flew open as he fell backward onto his heels, and the princess filled his vision at once: she loomed over him with her hands on her hips, the toe of one boot firmly pressing against his chest.

“‘Punishment’?” she repeated, her face unreadable. “Now _that’s_ a very interesting idea.”

He watched apprehensively as she tilted her head and slowly looked him up and down. She then seemed to make a decision.

“Take off your belt and harness,” the princess commanded, holding out an imperious hand to him.

Hendrik stared at her uncomprehendingly. “I...beg your pardon?”

She pushed her boot more firmly into his chest and he instinctively tightened his core in order to remain upright. Her fingers tapped her palm impatiently; though still mystified, this jolted him into action. He fumbled at his waist for the belt clasp first, detaching his sword and laying it on the tile beside him. Her foot dropped back down to the floor as he next pulled the shoulder strap over his head. He presented both to his princess with frowning bewilderment.

Once in her hands, she studied them briefly, tugging on each in turn. Then she nodded in satisfaction before turning her gaze back on the knight kneeling before her.

The princess jerked her chin toward the desk. “Sit down, Hendrik,” she said, still in that same flat tone. She straightened and strode over there herself without waiting to see if he obeyed.

He stumbled to his feet automatically, his long tunic billowing about his waist. What manner of plan she had in mind, he could not fathom; on closer inspection, she did not appear to have brought her claws with her, but that did not preclude her reaching for any of the weapons he kept at hand in the rack beside the fireplace—including the halberd she had so recently gained proficiency in.

Hendrik hesitantly followed her over to the desk and, at her curt nod, sat down heavily in the chair. The princess wasted not a second before she grabbed one of his large hands and placed it firmly upon the wooden chair arm next to it. Then, to his astonishment, she twisted his belt around the two and began to affix them together.

“Princess, what...whatever do you mean by this?” he stammered, gaping at her in confoundment. The idea of pulling back or stopping her in some way did not truthfully occur to him; when a knight’s future queen—who had every reason to wish him reassigned as her new pincushion—decided he would be best served tied to his own desk chair, it was his clear duty to acquiesce, no matter his perplexity.

The princess ignored his question and concentrated on her task. Her nimble hands made quick work of the job, and then moved to the other side to repeat it with his harness strap. While she busied herself, a hint of her perfume wafted over to him; despite his trepidation, he began to feel lightheaded at her closeness. When she finally finished, he found he could move and twist his wrists but the slightest fraction.

Princess Jade hopped up on his desk and perched on the edge of it front of him, her booted legs crossed demurely. “Well, you definitely can’t escape from me _this_ time, Sir Hendrik,” she said with a dark smile.

He swallowed hard, trying to make sense of _any_ of her behaviour these past minutes. “Princess—”

“You’ve made a habit of running away just when things were getting interesting,” she interrupted, again tilting her head as she looked at him. “I’ve frankly grown rather tired of it.” One of her boots lifted slightly to lazily brush against his knee and his fingers reflexively clenched against the wooden arms of the chair.

The princess turned then, and picked up one of the magazines behind her. She idly started to leaf through it. “So, this is the Hero of Heliodor’s great secret of the past few months. I have to confess, I was _really_ starting to wonder if I was misreading things.”

She huffed a humourless laugh. “I even wrote to Sylvando asking if you might prefer _men_. He assured me you didn’t, but—” A small shrug punctuated the end of this.

Her fingers paused on a page and Hendrik could just see enough over the top edge to recognize it as the very first royal feature in _The Ogler’s Digest_. The princess frowned slightly as she examined it. “They’re really not _that_ big,” she muttered to herself.

His confusion at her peculiar statements growing by the second, Hendrik decided it was well time to at least make an _attempt_ at discourse with his princess. She had apparently not yet decided upon the proper penalty for his infractions, and he felt a keen sense of responsibility in informing her of the steps he had already taken to atone for his egregious lapse in duty.

And if she could but cease in that casual stroking of his leg with her booted foot, so much the better; Hendrik had begun to feel an uncomfortable tightening in his trousers that was _thoroughly_ unhelpful at present.

“Your Highness,” he tried again, his throat only adequately equal to the task. “I...must needs assure you that the perpetrator of this injustice has been dealt with appropriately. There will be no further defamations of your character, on my honour as a knight.” Belatedly, he realized the hollowness of this vow in light of recent events; his lips pressed tightly together.

“Is that what you were up to today?” she asked, briefly glancing up from the publication.

“It was,” he confirmed. His fingers tingled slightly and he stretched them out to dispel the feeling. “The king wished for you to have no awareness of the matter, if at all possible.”

“Somehow the least surprising part of all of this,” the princess sighed.

Then she looked up at him again, that strange smile once more in place. “It’s a pity about the articles, though—you seem to have gotten quite a lot of enjoyment out of them.” To emphasize her point, she flicked one dog-eared page edge with her finger.

Hendrik felt a hot flush race up his chest and neck. It was one thing to confess his shameful behaviour to the princess; it was quite another to have her sitting there, the evidence in her hands as she pored over it with apparent interest.

As if listening to his inner thoughts and granting mercy, Princess Jade closed the magazine and tossed it back on the desk. She leaned forward, studying his face thoughtfully. He felt quite unequal to meeting her eyes— _undeserving_ of meeting them—but somehow could not look away.

“And what shall I do with you now, Hendrik?” she murmured, her gaze travelling down his body then back up again in a way that set his heart to racing.

“Princess,” he said, swallowing repeatedly as his fingers flexed on the wooden arms. “I am prepared to accept whatever disciplinary measures you deem—”

In direct contradiction to his words, he was utterly, entirely, and completely _un_ prepared for how she then slid off the edge of the desk, grasped his constrained forearms for leverage, and climbed into his lap.

Hendrik sucked in a sharp breath when the princess straddled his large thighs and placed her hands on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. It pulled slightly as she stretched up and leaned in right next to his stunned face.

“ _Are_ you quite sure you’re ready for this?” she breathed into his ear, and _oh_ how that warm puff of air jolted straight down to his already half-hard cock.

“ _Princess_ ,” he gasped, his back arching slightly as she nuzzled at his sensitive lobe. The scent of her perfume was now so potent it threatened to overwhelm him entirely. “I do not...I do not understand...”

“Oh, I think you do, Sir Hendrik,” she responded in a low voice. One of her hands had begun trailing teasingly down his stomach. “For a long while I thought you were new to this and I didn’t want to alarm you, but once I discovered you’d been indulging in such _scandalous_ material all along—”

Her hand paused just before it reached what was now a sizeable tent in his trousers. His erection strained against the confines of the fabric, eager for her to continue despite Hendrik’s considerable mental disarray.

“I almost forgot—” Princess Jade said distractedly, pulling away from his ear and leaving the skin cold and bereft in her wake. She leaned over toward the desk and grabbed something before returning.

In her hand she held his glasses.

“There,” she remarked as she carefully placed them upon his face and tucked his hair behind his ears. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to miss any of this.”

Hendrik’s dumbfounded state was perilously close to tipping over into outright insensibility. “My...glasses, Your Highness?”

“Yes,” the princess agreed. Her lower lip was pulled between her teeth as she looked him over appreciatively. A wicked smile then came upon her face and she leaned in close again, her breasts pressing against his chest.

“You have _no_ idea how many nights I spent with my hand between my legs while I thought of you wearing these,” she whispered, her lips brushing against the place where his ear met his neck.

His mind stuttered to a halt at this admission and he could not contain a ragged groan, his eyes squeezing shut. So many nights of his own, imagining what she might do to herself, the things she might think of, and now, to hear that it was of _him_ —

He was interrupted from this revelation by the feel of her fingers skimming lightly over his aching hardness.

“We must not...Princess...this is highly inappropriate...” he choked out, eyes fluttering back open. His hands clenched the chair arms and his hips treacherously thrust upward in the hopes of more of that thrilling contact.

“‘Inappropriate’?” she asked, sounding amused as she shifted her legs to adjust herself in his lap. “Where was ‘inappropriate’ when you were reading all about my supposed adventures as a promiscuous dancing girl?”

She had pushed aside his tunic and her fingers were at the top of his trousers now, leisurely working at the laces. “No, I think we’ve moved well past propriety here, Hendrik. And good riddance—this is _definitely_ much more fun.”

Laces finally undone, the princess paused a moment, her breath hot on his neck; then she reached inside his trousers to grasp his cock, at the same time as she scraped the bottom lobe of his ear with her teeth.

His hoarse cry echoed throughout his quarters as he helplessly bucked and strained against his bindings. The soft leather of her gloves offered exquisite contrast to the calluses on her fingertips as she pulled him free of his trousers and his erection was exposed to the cool air of the room.

Suddenly, the princess left her teasing tonguing of his earlobe to stare downward, her eyes wide. “Oh,” she said breathlessly, a flustered look on her face. “I...wasn’t expecting it to be so...”

After a moment, she seemed to recover herself. Her eyes darted back up to his, a wanton gleam within them. “You really _are_ full of surprises, aren’t you, Hendrik?”

Before he could pant out any sort of response to that, Princess Jade’s hand began to move upon his cock, and all thought was lost in a haze of lust.

“I’d apologize for tying you up,” she said in a low voice, her mouth once more at his ear and neck, ”but you’ve seemed content with not being able to touch for so long, and I’d hate to ruin that for you.”

Hendrik could not help the strangled moans that escaped him as the princess slowly stroked his stiff length. He had long suspected that such attentions would feel markedly different from his own hand, but nothing could have prepared him for the rapturous agony of her touch.

“If I’d waited, all you were ever going to do was pore over your magazines, weren’t you?” she asked, a slight hardness to her tone. Her lips trailed down to nip at the edge of his beard. “Tell me, Hendrik—did any of those other charming ladies catch your attention? Or did you only have eyes for your princess?”

He managed to rouse his presence of mind long enough to answer what he instinctively knew was a very important question.

“Just you,” he gasped out. His fingers were tightly curled in on themselves and his hips rocked steadily with the motion of the princess’s hand. “I only ever...saw you...”

“ _Good_ ,” she whispered directly into his ear, her voice curling hot and low in his stomach.

As her shockingly improper attentions continued, Hendrik quickly lost track of all sense of time or place. His world had narrowed to only the feel of her soft lips on his jaw and her gloved hand around his length. She continued to speak, however, and he desperately tried to attend to her words as his duty commanded him.

“So which part was your favourite, Hendrik?” the princess practically purred, her fingers caressing the head of his cock in a way that made his breath hitch. “The dancer’s outfit? The tiny tank top? Maybe even the Octagonian story after all—it _was_ quite compellingly written.“

Her hand paused and his hips reflexively jerked upward, chasing the sensation. She chuckled and briefly sucked at his ear lobe before pulling back to look directly at him. Hendrik met her knowing eyes with his own half-lidded ones, his breathing laboured.

“No, it was the bunny girl issue, wasn’t it?” Princess Jade asked slyly. “You always _did_ have a weakness for them.”

The tips of her fingers almost absently brushed across his aching erection. “In fact,” she continued, “you didn’t stop at just _reading_ it, did you, Hendrik? I saw the state of that page. Naughty, naughty.”

His face flushed hot with shame and he dropped his gaze. That the princess had seen such proof of his depravity was almost too much to bear, and he swallowed hard around the guilt suddenly squeezing his throat.

“Princess,” he choked out. “I...I can offer no excuse for my sinful actions. If you wished me to decamp from your sight forevermore as a consequence, I would comply without hesitation.“ In stark testament to his current distraction, the fact that she had already known of his behaviour and _still_ crawled into his lap, did not assert itself as a logical counter-argument in his mind.

She pulled back and shifted so that she was again straddling him, her hands on his chest. “As I said, there won’t be any _decamping_ this time,” she said crisply. “I’ve got much more interesting ideas.”

A strange smirk crossed her face, dark and taunting. “Your fondness for bunny girls is actually quite fortunate, because I just so happen to have a way of making _that_ particular dream come true...”

Before his stunned eyes, she removed herself from the chair entirely and stood in front of him, one hand on her hip. There was then a burst of bright red flame that left swimming spots in his vision. When the smoke cleared, he beheld a figure plucked directly from his fantasies.

Hendrik had seen her exercise her mysterious power before, of course, in the heat of perilous battle; but it was only ever from a distance, with much distraction to prevent any closer examination. He had once overheard the others inquiring as to the ability’s origin, but the princess had had no answer to give, and his respect for her privacy had firmly pushed it out of mind.

Not so at the present moment. Standing a mere foot away, she was an assault on his already overloaded senses. His helpless eyes did not know where to affix themselves, in turn taking in the fishnet stockings clinging to her legs, her black leather bodysuit and jacket, the red choker at her smooth throat, the bunny ears coyly askew in her hair.

The princess was watching him closely, her head tilted once more in assessment. Then she smiled, sultry and full of promise; his fingers clawed at the chair arms and his cock jerked visibly.

“What do you think, Hendrik?” she asked, her voice taking on a slight echo. The bangles around her wrist clinked as she gestured toward herself. “Does it live up to your imagination?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “I... _Princess..._ ” It seemed impossible for him to have gotten harder than when she had sat upon his lap, her hand stroking his length while she licked and kissed at his neck; but some reserves of blood had apparently been yet untapped, and now descended in a rush to his groin.

“I’m glad,” she said, her striking ruby eyes glittering. “But I wonder what else you’ve imagined in that wicked mind of yours, hm?”

Hendrik breathed harshly through his mouth as Princess Jade leaned over and placed firm hands on his knees, pushing them apart. She then gracefully knelt down between his legs and pulled him forward in the chair as much as his bindings would allow. Her face was mere inches from his straining cock and he shuddered to feel the light warmth of her breath on his sensitive skin.

“When was the last time you had a puff-puff?” she asked, looking up at him. Her fingers traced teasing patterns on his thighs.

The sight of his princess on her knees before him quite threatened to overwhelm the knight, but he obediently struggled to respond. “It...it has been...some years, Your Highness. My duties...”

“What a sacrifice for Heliodor!” she exclaimed, mocking sympathy in her eyes. “It’s a shame _The Ogler’s Digest_ never ran anything about my presumed years moonlighting as a puff-puff girl.”

“That...was to be in the next issue...” He inhaled sharply as she adjusted herself on the floor and a few strands of her hair fell down to brush against his throbbing cock.

“Really? What remarkably poor timing with all of this.” Her lips curved into a secret smile. “I suppose you’ll just have to make do with the real thing, then.”

The princess leaned back and fumbled a moment at her bodice. With the click of some hidden clasp, the front split apart, and she tugged the leather aside to reveal the full magnificence of her chest.

Hendrik’s heart pounded deafeningly in his ears as he laid disbelieving eyes on his princess’s breasts for the first time. They were fuller and rounder than he could ever have dreamed of, capped with pink nipples already stiffening in the coolness of the room. His wrists strained at the bindings securing him, a hair’s breadth from wishing to cast aside every last bit of noble idealism in his agonizing desire to touch, tease, _taste_ this ultimate temptation before him.

This caught her attention, and she glanced at one of his bound hands. “I think not, Sir Knight,” she said, her voice cool. “You’re all about looking without touching, remember?”

She leaned forward again and he watched, hypnotized, as her breasts swung gently with the motion. “Besides, I believe I promised you a puff-puff. I’ll warn you, though—it might be a little more exciting than the ones you’re used to.”

Princess Jade’s hands came up to support the weight of her bosom, her fingers caressing what he could only imagine to be her impossibly soft skin. She gave him one more sideways glance before she shifted closer and engulfed his cock in her considerable cleavage.

Hendrik moaned loudly at the sight of his rock-hard length caught in the warm cleft between her breasts. In all deliriousness, he could not decide if this were more heaven or hell, rapture or torture. She experimentally pulled upward and his cock slid against what he now _knew_ to be the velvety smoothness of her bust.

His breath came in hitched gasps as the princess slowly tried to pushed her breasts back down around his hardness, but the movement caught slightly with the lack of lubrication. She frowned.

“If I’d known any of this would happen, I would have come more prepared,” she remarked, her brow furrowed. Those unfamiliar red eyes met his once again, and she smiled sinfully. “But one thing I’ve learned over the years, is how to make do.”

With that, she pushed her breasts more firmly around him, leaned down, and sucked the head of his cock between her lips.

She jerked back slightly when he thrust helplessly upward in reaction to the heat and wetness of her mouth. With a warning look, she moved her hands to his hips and pushed down insistently, holding him in place. Then, she returned to her task of utterly destroying his sanity on every possible level.

As the princess tongued at his cock while stroking the shaft between her bewitching breasts, Hendrik was in a fair way of becoming entirely undone. He struggled to catch his breath and each sharp inhale was followed by a breathy groan. His fingers scrabbled uselessly on the wooden chair arms.

“Princess,” he gasped. “ _Princess_.”

Coherent thought had fled; left was only the most exquisite of sensations, and a vision he would never in a thousand years have dreamt of. To see his princess before him, dressed with such alluring wantonness, sucking at his cock while her full breasts engulfed him, was nearly too much for even the most disciplined of knights to handle.

It _was_ too much; Hendrik could feel his orgasm rushing to the forefront with every swipe of her hot tongue. He struggled manfully against it, desperately wanting to avoid sullying the mouth of his future queen with the shameful outcome of his desire.

“Princess!” he frantically attempted to warn her. “I am about to—I must not—”

Her eyes flew up to his and she pulled away at once, her breasts bouncing with the sudden movement. Seconds before he was about to come, her fingers were on his twitching cock just below the head, and she squeezed, _hard_.

Hendrik bucked wildly as a harsh cry was torn from his throat. His impending orgasm was mercilessly interrupted and he felt his balls tighten with the painful lack of satisfaction. He let his head fall back over the top of the chair, glasses askew and panting hotly.

“You should have warned me earlier,” Princess Jade said, and he could _hear_ the displeasure in her voice. He wearily forced his head up so that he could look at her. She was standing with her arms crossed above her chest, a cold look on her face.

“This is supposed to be a punishment,” she told him sharply, “so don’t even _think_ about coming before I do.”

Feeling quite incapable of speech, he could only nod his obeisance. His erection had lost some of its urgency with the princess’s cruel maneuver, but he could feel its interest piquing again at the full sight of her in her provocative costume.

She glared at him another moment and then reached out to remove his half-fallen glasses, tossing them onto the desk without looking. After that, she moved backward, once more hopping up onto the wooden surface. Her hands went down to fiddle with her bodysuit at the apex of her thighs.

“I think it’s time for you to learn what true service to the crown means, Sir Hendrik.” The princess undid yet another hidden clasp and the leather split apart beneath her fingers. She turned her red eyes on him then as she slowly spread her legs and pulled the fabric aside. “Now be a good boy, and attend to your princess.”

Hendrik’s breath caught in his throat at the sight before him, heretofore only seen in the glossy pages of _The Ogler’s Digest_. His rapt gaze followed down from her full breasts with their firm nipples, to the dark curls of hair below her stomach, to the folds of her sex underneath, glistening with her arousal. His mouth went dry and he swallowed reflexively.

With one quick glance up to her imperious expression, he awkwardly pushed the chair closer to the desk and attempted to bend at the waist. The bindings at his wrist halted him too soon, but he knew better than to request their removal; he shifted his hands sideways on the chair arms instead, and then was granted further range of motion.

After taking in a long, shaky breath, Hendrik leaned forward and buried his face between the Princess of Heliodor’s thighs.

He was overcome at once by the intoxicating scent of her, unlike anything he had ever imagined. As he nuzzled and mouthed at the juncture of her leg and groin, he knew that he could spend a thousand hours no nearer to her heated core than this, and never tire of it.

The princess, it appeared, did not share this sentiment; the fingers of one of her hands tangled into his hair and insistently urged him onward. He took in another quick breath and then pressed his lips against her folds in a tentative kiss.

Her gasp shot straight from her mouth down to his twitching cock. Emboldened, he tried again, more firmly this time, and added a long stroke of his tongue afterward. A quick study when it came to at least _some_ physical reactions, he determined that the sudden scrunching of her fingers against his scalp was a promising sign.

Hendrik set to work with the discipline of a well-trained knight. The taste of her was somehow even more enthralling than her scent, and he relished in his slow exploration of her sex with lips and tongue. He soon discovered a small nub near the top of her folds that seemed to provoke the greatest reactions, and he eagerly concentrated most of his attention there. The princess gasped and trembled above him and he wished that he could see her face, study the way she looked when she made those noises he had dreamed of for so long.

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you, Hendrik?” she asked breathlessly, fingers restlessly working in and out of his hair. “I’m sure you have. Tell me how often.”

She loosened her hold enough so that he could pull away. “More times than I can count, Princess,” he said raggedly. “But especially after that day, in the training room—”

“ _Yes_ ,” she moaned, firmly pushing him back until he once more returned to his work between her legs. “I should have taken you right there on the floor. You would have loved it.” Unable to speak, he could but silently agree with her assessment.

Her powerful thighs pressed tightly against his head and she began to rock her hips in time with the stroking of his tongue. His muscles ached from the strain of the awkward position, but he soldiered on, focusing on that nub that seemed to elicit so much pleasure for her. He licked and mouthed at it until he could scarce hear himself think over the sound of her sharp cries and throaty moans.

The one thing that could but make this perfection, he thought wildly, would be if he could use his fingers to explore her within, to feel her tight heat clenching around him.

“Hendrik,” she suddenly gasped, clutching at him with both hands now. “I’m almost—Hendrik, I—”

The princess jerked forward and pressed him so tightly against her that he struggled to draw breath. Then she fell back to the desk with a strangled moan, her sex seeming to pulsate from some place deep within her core.

Hendrik gulped in air as he sat back in the chair, the pain in his muscles easing out bit by bit. His face and beard were wet from her arousal, but his bound hands could not wipe them off. He instead watched the heaving rise and fall of the princess’s breasts as she slowly regained her composure.

“You’re...a quick learner, Sir Hendrik,” she panted finally. “Your princess is well pleased.”

She propped herself up on her elbows and scrutinized him, her legs still spread scandalously. When her gaze dropped down to his cock, half-hard from the concentration he had focused on the princess, it twitched. She smiled briefly, a hint of her usual expression shining through the dark seduction.

“I suppose you’ve earned a bit of a reward,” Princess Jade said then, and the gleam in her red eyes caused his heart to speed up again and the blood to once more rush southward.

She languidly pushed herself up from the desk and climbed into his lap, her dripping folds inches from his rapidly firming erection as she straddled him. Her breasts swung almost within reach of his mouth and he strained with the agonizing desire to taste them.

He moaned throatily when she grasped his cock in one tight hand, now fully hard again. “I wasn’t really expecting you to be so...large,” she admitted with a slight flush on her cheeks, at odds with the dark allure of her outfit. “We’ll have to take it slow.”

Before he could gaspingly ask what she meant, the princess lined him up with her sex, and began to sink down onto his length.

It took every last bit of willpower Hendrik had ever trained for to still his hips and prevent their instinctive thrusting as she took him into her wet heat, agonizingly slowly. He clutched the arms of the chair until his fingers began to go numb from the tension. His breath came in short, strangled gasps, and his shock-addled mind had not an idea that he would _ever_ be able to breathe normally again, not after _this_.

The princess, her eyes half-closed and her lip enticingly bitten, halted halfway down the length of his cock and rose again, and he groaned with the loss of her overwhelming tightness. Her hands went to his shoulders and she gripped him firmly before taking in a deep breath and descending again, quicker this time.

“Hendrik,” she breathed, and he could but moan in response.

As she worked herself on and off his cock, taking him slightly deeper each time, he gave himself over to the pleasure. His eyes fluttered shut and he focused only on the feel of her and the sound of her hitched breathing. Propriety, honour, duty; they were all but distant memories compared to this delirious desire.

But something intruded, when he opened his eyes again and met her hooded ruby ones. They were not the violet he had come to know so well, that he lost himself in when she spoke enthusiastically of her horse-riding practice or ranted about stuffy ministers. Her voice that gasped his name was not the quiet, thoughtful one he listened to with held breath. This costume she wore was not the utilitarian garb of a princess who lived her life one step away from a battlefield, ready at any time to leap to the defense of those she loved.

The fantasy he lived out this very moment was not that which he had returned to again and again, beyond the provocative outfits and the salacious stories and the glossy, lustful promises.

“Jade,” Hendrik said hoarsely. She froze mid-motion and her startled gaze flew to his.

“I wish...” He swallowed hard and struggled to get the words out, knowing how important it was to convey this. “I wish...to see _you_.”

She stared at him at him for several heartbeats, her mouth slightly open; then she lifted herself off his length and slid out of his lap. For one wild moment, he thought to have offended her, and felt his heart seize in his chest.

There was a bright puff of red smoke. When it dissipated, she was again in her customary green and black, those purple eyes turned on him with determination. To his astonishment, she went at once to the bindings at his chair, working first one free and then the other. As Hendrik hesitantly removed his sweat-damp gloves and shook his aching wrists, she slipped off her black shorts and climbed back into his lap. Her hands went up to his chest and she tilted her head at him, waiting to see what he would do.

After a near-instantaneous deliberation, his first action was not to grab the curve of her hips, or reach for her leather-clad breasts, or urge her back onto his stiff cock; but to cup her face in his hands and pull her in for a searing kiss.

Jade returned it eagerly, her lips moving against his with a breathy gasp. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and their tongues stroked together. Her fingers went from his chest to his scalp and she tugged at his hair urgently as he dropped his hands to wrap his arms around her waist.

He did not know how long they were lost in the embrace, but it abruptly ended with mutual gasps when she shifted in his lap and her arousal suddenly rubbed up against his insistent erection.

They both pulled back to look down at the heated contact. Then her familiar eyes returned to his and she smiled, a trifle mischievously. He let out a stuttered moan when she rocked into him, her sex sliding against his cock, and his hands flew to her hips; whether to halt her actions or spur her on, he did not rightly know.

She leaned in close, her whispered voice at his ear: “Take me, Hendrik.”

One long, ragged breath came out of him. Then Hendrik’s hand moved to her backside and he scooped her up even as he abruptly rose from the chair. She huffed a laugh and wrapped her booted legs around his waist, clinging to his shoulders as he strode one short step to the desk.

After careful consideration of his options, he reached out and cleared the wooden surface with one great sweep of his free arm, sending its contents crashing to the floor.

Jade’s back hit the desktop with a slight _oof,_ but she waved off his instant worry. She lifted herself up just enough to work at the buckle and laces of her halter, discarding it along with her black tank top at lightning speed. Not giving him time to admire her revealed breasts—with fingers or tongue, he had not yet decided—she tugged at his tunic and he bent over to allow her to remove both it and the shirt beneath. Her skirt, boots, and armguards, he was more than happy to have her leave on; not only was their haste not conducive to such pointless disrobing, but it secretly fulfilled _another_ of his frequent fantasies.

Her hands went immediately to his chest and stomach, running over the musculature there with evident appreciation. He was almost paralyzed with choice as to where to touch first, but her legs around his waist abruptly made the decision for him when she urged him closer and his cock once more rubbed against her dripping sex.

Hendrik shoved his trousers down further for ease of movement and braced himself against the desk on one elbow, the other grasping his length. His hair fell into his eyes and Jade reached up to gently brush it aside. He watched her closely as he started to push inside, fearful of hurting her.

The bliss of returning to her tight heat was indescribable. His breathing hitched with his excruciatingly slow pace and he could hear her answering gasps and see her eyes fluttering as he pressed into her.

When he was but halfway inside, she seemed to lose patience with his caution all of a sudden. Her booted heels dug into his back and firmly pushed him forward until he filled her completely. He let out a low cry and almost collapsed on top of her. His wild gaze met hers, too stunned even to speak.

“You were taking much too long,” she said breathlessly, that impish smile again on her face. Her gloved hands slid around to his back and she shifted her hips against him encouragingly.

To say that they settled into a rhythm would imply a much more measured, restrained performance than either was willing to entertain at that moment. Instead, it was a series of escalations, their bodies rocking against each other with increasing fervor as his cock drove into her slick folds again and again. Sweat soon dripped down his face and chest and her fingers clawed at his back while she met him thrust for thrust.

“Jade,” he moaned helplessly, his hips snapping against hers. Her own hair was damp from the exertion and her tempting lips parted with small gasps.

“Hendrik,” she breathed in response. “Touch me.”

So he did. One hand moved to her hips to help her rock against him and the other finally, _finally_ reached for her breasts, stroking their soft roundness and teasing her nipples with his rough fingers. She reacted more incredibly than he had ever imagined, her eyes squeezing shut and her shameless moans shooting straight to his cock. Her hand slipped between her legs and she caressed herself in time with his pounding.

Hendrik knew he could not last long, not with her here, more beautiful and perfect than in his wildest dreams. She engulfed his length like she was made for him, hot and wet and almost agonizingly tight. He did not think of her title and his duties; he did not think of the magazines and the lonely nights; he did not think of anything but the exhilarating way in which they were joined, moving together as one.

She cried his name as she reached her climax, and the feeling of her clenching around his cock sent him spiralling toward his own. His hand jerked up from her breast to her face, and he cradled her cheek as he leaned down and captured her lips in a desperate kiss. Her mouth moved against his like a prayer, and he spent himself inside her with a ragged moan.

It was better than any fantasy; it was _real_.

* * *

Jade did not need to work overlong at convincing him that a move to the bed afterward would be much more comfortable than the hard surface of the desk. They lay tangled in the sheets together, clothing now fully discarded somewhere on the tiled floor. She curled into his side with her head on his chest, and his powerful arms held her close.

Hendrik's mind was all in a daze; the shame and self-censure that had plagued him these past months had transformed into something as fragile as it was wonderful, and he could not yet grasp the breadth of the mercies that had been bestowed upon him.

“Are you vexed with me still, Princess?” he asked after a time. His fingers idly stroked into her hair and he could smell a faint floral scent wafting from it.

She made a small noise of irritation and shifted against him. “I thought you’d moved on from calling me that.”

“If...you wish me to.” He swallowed nervously. “Jade.”

“Much better,” she hummed with satisfaction. “I think once a knight’s been inside his princess, he’s allowed to take certain liberties, don’t you?”

Hendrik flushed hotly despite their actions of mere minutes ago, and she chuckled in a low voice. She pulled away slightly and propped her head up on her hand so that she could look at him.

“I should have realized what your blushing meant _months_ ago,” Jade lamented with a sigh. “To think of all the time we wasted with our own hands when we could have been doing _this_.”

Hendrik cleared his throat. “To...to return to the question,” he managed to get out, face still burning.

“No, I’m not still angry,” she responded, her eyes now serious. “I wish you hadn’t kept this from me, but I understand why you did—as insufferable as your knightly nonsense can be sometimes.”

She reached out to brush a lock of hair out of his face. “Besides,” she continued teasingly, “I think I was able to make at least a few of your _Ogler’s Digest_ -inspired fantasies come true.”

“Perhaps...more than a few,” he admitted, unable to meet her eyes any longer.

Another chuckle, then. Her head returned to his chest and her fingers traced light patterns upon his skin. “Who would ever have thought such a fine, upstanding knight of the realm was a voracious reader of tawdry magazines?”

“Jade, I beg of you—” he protested in a strangled voice.

“You didn’t actually think any of it was true, did you?” she interrupted, her voice curious.

“I...” Hendrik struggled with his answer, unclear what he even _had_ believed at the time, much of his thoughts having been consumed by lust and guilt. For the preservation of her reputation, he would, of course, denounce every report of ill repute, but—

Jade laughed, pure and true, and his heart soared at the sound of it despite his discomfort. “Poor Sir Hendrik,” she teased. “Firmly resolving never to go back to Octagonia in case he runs into the mysterious G.B., whom I evidently took _shocking_ advantage of.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I had not, in truth, considered _that_ one very likely.” He felt her smile against his chest, but she did not reply. They spent some minutes lying together, the quiet dimness of the room lulling him into a hazy contentment.

After a time, he was roused again by her voice: “So they aren’t going to write any others, are they?”

“No,” he confirmed, a slight rankle of disquiet going through him at the memory of his encounter in Downtown Heliodor. “I made it profoundly clear how ill-advised such a venture would be.”

She considered that a moment. “Still,” she mused, “perhaps it might be better to leave it with a little more... _finality_ than that.”

Hendrik frowned. “Jade? What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied, pressing a light kiss to his skin.

His confusion was swept away in an instant when she slid her leg around his hip and pushed herself up until she straddled him, her breasts swaying gently and her dark hair falling around them like a curtain.

“You know, now that I’m thinking on it, I’m not sure you’ve been sufficiently punished after all, Sir Hendrik,” she breathed, her hands stroking across his muscled stomach.

He looked up at her as though she were a vision, equally distracted between her lovely face and her tantalizing breasts. His heart began to pound, pumping blood to a suddenly _very_ interested part of his body. “What...did you have in mind?” he asked with a hitch in his voice.

“Many, many things,” she purred, leaning down so that her nipples brushed against his chest. “But first, you’re going to need to retrieve your glasses from wherever they landed on the floor.”

Hendrik let out a shaky breath. “Your wish is my command, Princess Jade.”

 

* * *

 

He was at his desk some weeks later, the morning sun dappling through the window pane onto the lacquered wood below. Jade had left him a mere half-hour before, sneaking out of his quarters after a particularly passionate kiss full of the thrill of shared secrets and future promise. It had taken only the slightest persuasion—and a firm hand wrapped around his length—to conquer Hendrik's fretful nobility and bring him over to the side of discretion with their liaison; and though he now lauded the prudence of her early departures, he still could not but regret the loss of the warmth and lightness she lent to any room graced with her presence.

It was for an altogether _different_ reason that he fervently wished her back that moment, however, as he stared at the freshly-delivered magazine in his hands, his fingers clutching the glossy pages so tightly they began to tear.

 

**Ravishing Royal Roundup: A Forlorn Farewell**

_Sad news, Distinguished Readers! RAVISHING ROYAL ROUNDUP is coming to a close, due to unforeseen circumstances preventing further publication. But before we go, we’ve got one FINAL scoop on the luscious lady we’ve been so raptly riveted to: Princess Jade! According to our most EXCLUSIVE of exclusive sources, this delectable damsel is now officially off the market—and being WELL satisfied between the sheets by her new paramour! He’s NOT the Luminary as previously reported (our mistake!) but a muscled model of manliness FAR closer to home. Don’t be too sad, gentlemen, and DEFINITELY don’t be angry—this Hero from Heliodor has the brawn and the bravery to slice you sideways if you DARE get close to his princess! Though we’re sad to say good-bye, we’re grateful for the memories our Distinguished Readers were able to share with us, and we wish Princess Jade all health and happiness—ESPECIALLY in the bedroom! Thank you for reading RAVISHING ROYAL ROUNDUP and stay tuned next issue for our NEW feature, MESMERIZING MERMAID MARINA!_

 

There was a knock at the door.

“Sir Hendrik?” he heard his maid call in from outside. “An urgent summons from the king. He’d like to see you straight away.”

The knight’s head jerked up and his eyes filled with horror.


End file.
